“I’m not sure I can walk into that ballroom.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Everyone will stare.”
“Then let them stare at a woman who refused to be broken.”
While Judith helped me dress, my attorney, Marcus Hall, reviewed the home security records.
Natalie had entered my house at 1:43 that morning using the security code Jackson had given her during the wedding preparations.
She left at 3:16.
A hallway camera showed her emerging from my bedroom carrying my jewelry box and a small black bag.
My housekeeper, Rosa, had arrived early to begin preparing breakfast. She saw Natalie leaving the bedroom but assumed I had asked her to retrieve something.
Marcus saved every recording.
He photographed the note, the ruined dress, and the empty space where my jewelry box had been.
Then he asked me one question.
“Do you still want the transfer to proceed?”
I looked at Frank’s photograph on my dresser.
“No.”
At the Westbrook Hotel, hundreds of white roses covered the lobby. A string quartet played near the staircase. Guests in elegant clothes moved through the halls, laughing and taking photographs.
Nobody knew what had happened inside my home.
Jackson was in a private suite with his groomsmen.
When I entered, he looked so much like Frank that I nearly lost my courage.
He wore his father’s cuff links. His dark hair was combed the same way Frank had worn his on our wedding day.
For one foolish second, I wanted to pretend everything was fine.
Then Jackson saw the wig.
“What happened to your hair?”
I closed the door behind me.
“Natalie shaved it while I was sleeping.”
The room became silent.
One of the groomsmen slowly lowered his coffee cup.
Jackson stared at me.
“What?”
I handed him the note.
He read it, but instead of looking horrified, his face tightened with frustration.
“Mom, where did this come from?”
“It was beside my bed.”
“Are you saying Natalie broke into your house on our wedding morning and shaved your head?”
“She used the code you gave her.”
“That’s insane.”
“I have security records.”
Jackson pushed the note back into my hand.
“Why are you doing this today?”
His words hurt more than seeing my reflection that morning.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to destroy my wedding.”
Before I could answer, the door opened.
Natalie entered in a white satin robe with the word BRIDE embroidered across the back. Her hair was pinned in perfect curls, and diamonds sparkled at her ears.
She looked at me and widened her eyes.
“Oh, Evelyn. What did you do to your hair?”
