CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 3 — THE BOUQUET
My bouquet looked innocent on the marble floor.
That was why Victoria had never noticed it.
White roses, soft ribbon, tiny pearl pins, and one black phone hidden deep between the stems with the camera facing outward.
It had been my maid of honor’s idea at first.
“Just in case,” Lily had whispered that morning, tucking it carefully beneath the flowers.
I had almost told her no.
I did not want to be the kind of bride who recorded her wedding day out of fear.
But then I remembered Victoria standing in the bridal suite the night before, smiling as she described every way she planned to ruin me if I married her son.
So I let Lily hide the phone.
Just in case.
Now the case had arrived covered in shattered glass.
Victoria stepped closer, her heels stopping just inside the broken doorway.
She pointed one finger inches from my face.
The guests behind her remained frozen.
The chandelier glowed above her like a crown she had no right to wear.
“You think tears will save you?” she asked.
I did not answer.
My eyes dropped again to the bouquet.
Victoria noticed.
Her gaze followed mine.
For the first time, uncertainty moved across her face.
Small.
Quick.
But real.
I slowly bent down and picked up the bouquet.
Glass shifted softly beneath the edge of my dress.
A few guests gasped, maybe afraid I would fall, maybe afraid I would reveal something they could not ignore.
Victoria’s voice sharpened.
“Leave it.”
I looked up at her.
“What?”
“Leave it on the floor.”
The panic in her voice was faint, but I heard it.
So did she.
That made her angrier.
I held the bouquet against my chest and slid my fingers between the roses.
The phone screen glowed.
Still recording.
Victoria’s eyes locked onto it.
Her lips parted.
Then I reached deeper into the bouquet and pulled out the small silver USB drive tied beneath the ribbon.
The foyer changed.
I could feel it.
Before, everyone had been watching a scene.
A cruel mother-in-law humiliating a bride.
A scandal.
A spectacle.
Now they were watching evidence appear in real time.
Victoria’s face hardened fast.
“What is that?” she asked.
I looked at the USB in my hand.
Then at her.
“You know what it is.”
Her eyes flashed.
“Careful, Isabella.”
There it was again.
The warning.
The same tone she had used in the bridal suite.
The same tone she used when she told my mother which entrance staff should use because “guests might get confused.”
The same tone she used when she informed me my father’s photo would not be displayed at the reception because “dead relatives change the mood.”
Something hot moved through my chest.
Not fear.
Not grief.
Rage.
Quiet enough to speak clearly.
“You said I didn’t belong before the ceremony,” I said.
Victoria’s jaw clenched.
“And I would say it again.”
I lifted the USB drive.
May you like
“Good,” I said. “Because your voice is already on the prenup file.”
For the first time since I had known her, Victoria Ashford looked truly afraid.
