Camille locked the door.
When they opened the garment bag, I stopped breathing.
The gown shimmered in the soft light.
The pearls looked like drops of moonlight.
The silver-thread roses climbed over the bodice and disappeared into the train.
And near the bottom, almost invisible beneath the embroidery, rested the tiny silver emblem.
Mireille’s mark.
Authentic.
Unmistakable.
Inside the train was my grandmother’s lace.
I touched it gently.
For one moment I could almost smell her perfume.
Lavender and sandalwood.
“Wish you were here,” I whispered.
At six o’clock, the ballroom doors opened.
Three hundred guests rose.
And I entered.
The quartet began playing.
White orchids curved over the aisle.
Hundreds of candles reflected in the marble floor.
Adrian stood beneath an arch of ivory roses wearing a black tuxedo, looking at me as though there were nobody else in the room.
Halfway down the aisle, the silence broke.
Glass hit marble.
“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT DRESS?”
Vanessa.
I didn’t stop.
My mother grabbed her arm.
Vanessa stared at the lower edge of my train.
Then she saw it.
The silver emblem.
Her face drained of color.
Because the gown she had stolen didn’t have one.
She looked down at the dress she was wearing.
Then at mine.
Then at my mother.
“What is that?” she whispered.
My mother hissed, “Sit down.”
I continued walking.
Adrian smiled when I reached him.
“You okay?”
“Perfect.”
He took my hand.
Then our wedding planner, Mara Collins, approached the microphone.
“Before we begin,” she said, “the bride and groom have arranged a small presentation concerning an incident that occurred forty-eight hours ago.”
My mother’s head snapped toward me.
I hadn’t arranged anything.
Apparently, Adrian had.
He squeezed my fingers.
“I told Mara to pull the security logs after you called me.”
I stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I knew somebody entered your suite.”
Behind us, a giant screen descended.
The first video began.
Timestamp:
1:14 A.M.
The hallway outside my bridal suite appeared.
Vanessa walked into frame.
Thirty seconds later, my mother followed.
A gasp traveled through the ballroom.
The camera angle changed.
Vanessa entered my suite.
Opened the garment closet.
Unzipped the bag.
Removed the backup gown.
Then she laughed.
My mother helped her carry it away.
Vanessa stood abruptly.
“TURN THAT OFF!”
Phones rose everywhere.
But the footage continued.
The audio was faint at first.
Then the technician increased the volume.
My mother’s voice thundered through the ballroom.
“Once Claire sees you wearing her dress, she’ll fall apart.”
On-screen Vanessa laughed.
“And if she still goes through with the wedding?”
My mother’s recorded answer followed.
“Then we make sure Adrian learns the other secret.”
