Chapter 2 - The Torn Photograph
Nathaniel’s face was unreadable. He didn't yell. He didn't lunge at his new wife. But the way his jaw tightened made the blood freeze in my veins. He slowly stood up, leaving his mother kneeling on the broken glass, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “What did she just tell me, Victoria?” Nathaniel asked. His voice was terrifyingly calm. Victoria took a step back, her expensive white heels crunching on the shards of champagne flutes. “Nathaniel, she’s in shock. She’s confused. She slipped, and I tried to catch her.” “She said the tea you brought her this morning tasted like bitter almonds,” he said. “She said she poured it into the sink, and the silver drain tarnished by noon.” A murmur rippled through the frozen crowd of wedding guests. Victoria’s eyes darted around the rooftop terrace. She was losing her audience, losing control of the narrative she had carefully built. “That’s insane! She’s hated me since the day we met. She’s making this up to ruin our wedding!” I knelt beside Eleanor. My hands were still bleeding, the adrenaline wearing off to leave a burning ache in my palms. “Ma’am,” I whispered. “Are you okay?” Eleanor didn't look at her son. She looked at me. Her trembling hands reached into the folds of her ruined pale blue gown. She pulled out a small, navy-blue silk clutch. It was stained with a drop of my blood from where I had grabbed her. “Take it,” she whispered to me, her voice so low only I could hear. “What?” I asked, confused. I was just the server. I wasn't supposed to be part of this. “Hide it, Rose,” she pleaded, her eyes wide with a terror that had nothing to do with falling eighty stories. “He won’t believe me unless we have proof. And she controls his security team.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I slipped the silk clutch into the deep pocket of my black uniform apron just as the heavy rooftop doors burst open. Hotel security flooded the terrace, followed closely by two NYPD officers. Victoria immediately burst into tears. It was a flawless performance. She collapsed into the arms of the nearest security guard. “Please! My mother-in-law had a dizzy spell! She nearly died, and this server—this brave girl—saved her!” She pointed at me. Suddenly, I was the hero in her twisted version of events. She was using me to cover up a murder attempt. Nathaniel turned to the officers. “Clear the terrace. I want every guest out of here. Now.” As the guests were ushered inside, a paramedic rushed over to bandage my hands. I sat on a velvet chair, my whole body shaking. I felt the heavy weight of the silk clutch in my pocket. When the paramedic stepped away, I couldn't resist. I carefully unclasped the clutch. Inside was a single, vintage gold pocket watch that had stopped at 11:15, and a torn photograph. I pulled the photograph out. It was old, the edges curled. It showed Victoria, looking about ten years younger, wearing a cheap diner uniform. But it wasn't her that made my breath catch. It was the man standing next to her, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. It was Nathaniel’s father. The man who had supposedly died in a tragic boating accident five years ago.
