Chapter 5 - CAUGHT IN THE LENS
The screen flickered to life, displaying the timestamp: August 6, 11:42 PM. The black-and-white infrared footage was crisp, capturing the interior of my master bedroom. The guests watched, captivated, as the figure of me sleeping peacefully in my bed appeared on screen.
A moment later, the bedroom door crept open. Two figures sneaked inside. Even in infrared night vision, the silhouettes were unmistakable. It was Natalie, still wearing her silk 'Bride' robe, and her Maid of Honor, Chloe.
A collective gasp echoed through the ballroom as the guests watched a massive projection of the bride. Natalie held an electric clipper. Chloe held a trash bag. The footage showed Natalie standing over me, her face contorted in a malicious sneer, as she ruthlessly ran the clippers over my head, chunks of my silver hair falling onto the pillow.
Jackson let out a guttural sound of pure agony and rage. "Oh my god," he whispered, burying his face in his hands. "Oh my god."
The video continued. It showed Natalie walking over to the vanity, writing the note, and then violently taking a pair of shears to my blue dress. Finally, the camera captured her walking to the mahogany safe. She punched in the code—my birthday, which Jackson must have mentioned in passing—and pulled out the heavy velvet boxes containing the Cartier diamonds. She shoved them into her oversized designer tote bag.
I signaled the DJ to cut the video. The lights snapped back on, blindingly bright, exposing every guilty drop of sweat on Natalie’s perfectly contoured face.
"You turned off the primary alarm system," I said, my voice echoing like a judge reading a life sentence. "But Arthur built our company on redundancies. You forgot to check for the closed-loop backup."
"You... you crazy old witch," Natalie breathed, her chest heaving. The sweet, demure bride was dead; the monster was fully unmasked. "You set me up! You invaded my privacy!"
"I invaded your privacy in my own bedroom while you assaulted me and robbed me blind?" I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. I turned to Jackson. My heart broke for my boy, but a bone broken cleanly heals faster than one left to rot. "Jackson. I love you more than life itself. But I will not hand over your father's legacy to a parasite."
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Jackson didn't look at me. He was staring at Natalie. He slowly reached up to his lapel, his fingers trembling, and ripped off the white rose boutonniere. He threw it on the floor and crushed it beneath his dress shoe.
"We haven't signed the marriage certificate yet," Jackson said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "The priest was supposed to bring it to the back room after the reception." He looked up, his eyes cold and hard. "We are not married, Natalie. And we never will be."
