Then came invoices.
Payment confirmations.
My name.
My credit card.
My deposit.
Daniel stared at the screen.
“Emma?”
I said nothing.
The next slide appeared.
CANCELLATION REQUEST APPROVED.
The name beneath it:
Vivian Sinclair.
Someone in the second row gasped.
My mother’s face changed.
The next image was a screenshot.
Cancel her original gown. She won’t realize it until it’s too late.
The room exploded into whispers.
Then Lila’s response:
She’ll have no choice once she’s standing in front of everyone.
A champagne glass slipped from someone’s hand and shattered against marble.
Lila stood.
“You read our emails?”
I picked up the microphone Marcus had placed near the altar.
“They appeared on a device you forgot was still connected.”
“Emma,” my mother said sharply.
I ignored her.
The next slide showed the message that had hurt the most.
If she throws a scene, even better. People need to see what Daniel is marrying.
Daniel turned toward my mother.
“What the hell is this?”
My mother stood.
“This is inappropriate.”
I laughed then.
I couldn’t help it.
“Inappropriate?”
“Turn this off.”
“No.”
“You are embarrassing this family.”
I looked down at the glittering gown.
Then back at her.
“No, Mom. You did that yourselves.”
Camera phones rose everywhere.
Lila pushed through the front row.
“You’re making this look worse than it was.”
“How should it look?”
“We were helping you.”
“By canceling a dress I paid for?”
“You would have thanked us eventually.”
The crowd reacted audibly.
My mother snapped, “Lila.”
But it was too late.
For once, nobody was controlling the narrative.
I put down the microphone.
Then reached behind my back.
My fingers found the concealed zipper Camille had installed.
Lila noticed first.
Her face drained.
“What are you doing?”
I smiled at her.
“You worked very hard to make sure I walked down this aisle wearing someone else’s dress.”
My mother’s expression shifted.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Emma.”
I pulled the zipper.
The rhinestone bodice loosened.
A narrow strip of smooth ivory silk appeared beneath it.
Lila stepped forward.
“No.”
My mother shoved past a chair.
“Stop.”
I pulled again.
The glittering fabric separated.
Gasps moved through the ballroom.
Beneath the gown they had chosen for me was the gown I had chosen for myself.
My original dress.
Perfect.
Untouched.
Ivory silk hugged my waist beneath the collapsing rhinestone shell.
My mother rushed toward me.
“DON’T!”
I let the outer gown fall.
It hit the marble floor around my feet in a glittering heap.
The room erupted.
Some guests clapped.
Others stood.
Daniel stared as though he had forgotten how to speak.
But my mother wasn’t looking at the dress.
She was staring at my waist.
Specifically, at the narrow ivory belt Camille had sewn around it.
At its center sat a small antique sapphire brooch.
Blue.
Oval.
Surrounded by tiny diamonds.
My grandmother’s brooch.
The one my mother had told me was lost seventeen years earlier.
Vivian lunged.
Her hand closed around my wrist.
“Take that off.”
I pulled away.
The applause died immediately.
My mother’s face had gone white.
“Where did you get that?”
I touched the sapphire.
“Camille gave it to me.”
For the first time all day, my mother looked genuinely terrified.
Lila whispered, “Mom?”
Vivian turned toward the back of the ballroom.
Her eyes found the woman sitting in the last row.
A small elderly woman rose slowly.
Silver hair.
Black dress.
Cane in one hand.
She had watched the entire ceremony without saying a word.
I had met her only the previous morning.
Her name was Margaret Vale.
Camille Moreau’s former business partner.
And my grandmother’s closest friend.
