Chapter 1 - THE SCREEN
For three full seconds, nobody moved.
Three hundred people sat beneath crystal chandeliers, staring at the twenty-foot screen behind my sister while Rachel stood frozen with the microphone still raised to her mouth.
On the screen, Rachel was kissing another man.
Not a friendly kiss.
Not a drunken misunderstanding.
His hand was around her waist.
Her fingers were tangled in his hair.
And judging by the apartment around them, they had been comfortable enough to forget the rest of the world existed.
I heard Andrew whisper one word.
“Gavin?”
The man beside Rachel in the video turned his face toward the camera.
Several people gasped.
I didn’t know him well, but I recognized him immediately.
Gavin Price.
Andrew’s college roommate.
His best man.
And the chief financial officer of Whitmore Development.
Gavin was standing less than twenty feet from Andrew.
He had been holding a champagne glass.
Now it slipped from his fingers.
It hit the ballroom floor and shattered.
Every head turned toward him.
“Andrew,” Gavin said.
Andrew didn’t answer.
On the screen, Rachel pulled away from Gavin and laughed.
The video kept playing.
That was when I realized this wasn’t simply footage of an affair.
There was sound.
Very clear sound.
Rachel’s recorded voice filled the ballroom.
“After Saturday, it doesn’t matter. Once I’m legally his wife, Henry can’t treat me like some outsider anymore.”
Gavin chuckled.
“You’re assuming Andrew won’t notice.”
“He never notices anything he doesn’t want to see.”
The real Andrew stared at the screen like someone had punched through his chest.
I looked toward Chloe.
She stood beside the DJ booth with both hands clasped in front of her.
She looked terrified.
Rachel finally found her voice.
“Turn that off!”
The DJ hesitated.
“TURN IT OFF!”
He reached toward the console.
Andrew raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
The DJ stopped.
Rachel looked at him.
“Andrew, this is insane. I don’t know where she got—”
“Don’t turn it off,” Andrew repeated.
His voice was quiet.
That made it worse.
The video changed.
Apparently Chloe had edited several clips together.
The next was filmed inside a car.
Rachel sat in the passenger seat.
Gavin was driving.
“You really think Whitmore will sign it?” Gavin asked.
“He already told me he would.”
“What about his father?”
“Henry hates me.”
“He doesn’t trust you.”
Rachel smiled toward Gavin.
“Then it’s lucky I’m not marrying Henry.”
A few nervous laughs died immediately.
Gavin muttered something.
Then Rachel said something that made Andrew’s father stand up.
“The Boston property alone will cover everything.”
Henry Whitmore was sixty-three, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, and usually carried the expression of a man who had never been forced to repeat himself.
Now his face was stone.
“What Boston property?” he asked.
Nobody answered.
The video continued.
Gavin said, “We still have Claire’s problem.”
I stopped breathing.
My name.
My name had just come through the ballroom speakers.
Rachel leaned back against the passenger seat.
“Claire isn’t a problem.”
“She could be if somebody checks the paperwork.”
“She hasn’t checked anything in years.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“My sister can barely pay rent, Gavin. You really think she’s hiring forensic accountants?”
Several guests turned toward me.
My skin went cold.
Gavin lowered his voice.
“What if Whitmore’s attorneys find the Bennett company?”
Rachel laughed.
“They won’t.”
“And if they do?”
“Then Claire signed everything.”
I stood up.
I didn’t remember deciding to.
One second I was seated.
The next I was on my feet.
“What company?”
Rachel stared at me.
The screen went black.
The ballroom fell silent again.
Andrew looked between Rachel and me.
“What company?” I repeated.
Rachel dropped the microphone.
It struck the stage with a loud thud.
Then she stepped down.
“This is ridiculous.”
I moved into the aisle.
“What were you talking about?”
“I have absolutely no idea what that edited garbage is.”
Gavin had begun moving toward a side door.
Andrew saw him.
“Where are you going?”
Gavin stopped.
“Outside.”
“No.”
“Andrew—”
“No.”
I had never seen a room full of wealthy people become so silent.
Andrew pointed toward Gavin.
“You stay right there.”
Then he turned toward Rachel.
“Tell me the video is fake.”
“It obviously is.”
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Tell me you never slept with Gavin.”
Rachel opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Andrew’s face changed.
Not dramatically.
That was what frightened me.
Something simply disappeared from his eyes.
Trust, maybe.
Or love.
Gavin stepped forward.
“It happened once.”
Rachel spun toward him.
“You idiot!”
Andrew laughed.
It was a terrible sound.
“Once?”
Gavin looked at the floor.
Rachel rushed toward Andrew.
“He’s lying.”
“Why would he lie now?”
“Because he’s panicking!”
“So are you.”
People were pulling out phones.
Whispers spread across tables.
Mom came rushing toward me.
“This is your fault.”
I stared at her.
“My fault?”
“You should have controlled Chloe.”
I almost couldn’t believe what I’d heard.
Rachel had just been exposed cheating on her husband with his best friend, apparently discussing some financial scheme involving my name, and somehow my mother had found a way to blame my eight-year-old daughter.
Chloe heard her.
Her lower lip trembled.
That was enough.
I walked straight past Mom.
I reached Chloe and knelt.
“Come here.”
She fell into me.
“I’m sorry, Mommy.”
My heart broke.
“No.”
“I thought Uncle Andrew needed to see it.”
“You did nothing wrong.”
“I didn’t know everyone would yell.”
I held her tighter.
Behind us, Rachel screamed.
“Where did you get that flash drive?”
Chloe flinched.
I stood.
Rachel was coming toward us.
I moved between them.
“You don’t speak to her.”
“She stole from me!”
“She’s eight.”
“That little brat went through my private files!”
Andrew stepped down from the stage.
“How did she get them?”
Rachel ignored him.
She pointed at Chloe.
“That girl has always been creepy. Always listening, always staring—”
“Rachel.”
My voice surprised even me.
“If you call my daughter one more name tonight, you and I are going to have a very different conversation.”
Mom grabbed my arm.
“Claire, don’t create a scene.”
I looked around.
A destroyed wedding.
A cheating bride.
A best man caught in an affair.
Three hundred witnesses.
And my mother was worried about me creating a scene.
I pulled my arm away.
“The scene has been created.”
Andrew approached Chloe carefully.
He crouched several feet away.
“Chloe?”
She peeked from behind me.
“You’re not in trouble.”
She swallowed.
“Okay.”
“Can you tell me where you found the videos?”
Chloe looked at me.
I nodded.
She reached into the small pink purse hanging from her shoulder and removed the silver flash drive.
“Aunt Rachel gave it to me.”
Rachel’s face went white.
“What?”
“Last Sunday.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
“At Grandma’s.”
Mom suddenly stopped moving.
Chloe continued.
“You told me to put the old family pictures on it because I said I could make a wedding movie.”
I remembered.
Rachel had complained that hiring an editor for a childhood montage would cost too much.
Chloe loved making simple videos on her laptop.
Rachel had laughed and said, “Fine, Spielberg. Make me something cute.”
I’d forgotten.
Apparently Rachel had too.
“I plugged it into my computer,” Chloe said. “There were already folders.”
Andrew’s eyes moved toward Rachel.
“What folders?”
Chloe looked embarrassed.
“One said Wedding.”
“And?”
“One said Tax.”
Gavin closed his eyes.
Rachel’s face collapsed.
“And another one,” Chloe continued, “said BEC.”
Andrew’s father spoke.
“What does BEC stand for?”
Chloe looked at me.
“Bennett Educational Consulting.”
My legs nearly gave out.
I had never heard those words before.
Henry Whitmore walked toward us.
“Claire, is that your company?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I teach fourth grade.”
His expression hardened.
Gavin suddenly bolted.
He didn’t make it three steps.
Two Whitmore security guards caught him before he reached the ballroom doors.
Guests shouted.
Someone knocked over a chair.
Rachel screamed his name.
And in that single instant, everyone in the room understood the affair was no longer the biggest secret on Chloe’s flash drive.
Henry turned toward the wedding coordinator.
“Lock the office containing tonight’s contracts.”
Then toward his security chief.
“Nobody touches Gavin’s laptop.”
Rachel stared at him.
“You have no right—”
Henry looked at her.
“You married my son three hours ago.”
His voice was colder than the marble beneath our feet.
“And somehow your lover has been discussing a corporation registered under your sister’s name while talking about my company’s property.”
Andrew looked at Rachel.
“What did you do?”
She backed away.
Nothing could have prepared me for who answered.
My mother.
“Rachel,” Mom whispered.
Rachel spun around.
“Shut up.”
Mom’s hands were shaking.
“I told you to close that company months ago.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
Mom realized what she had said.
Too late.
Rachel closed her eyes.
Andrew stepped backward as if he suddenly needed distance from all of us.
And Chloe slipped her small hand into mine.
That was the moment I understood something much worse than infidelity had just been exposed.
May you like
My sister had been using my name.
And my mother had helped her.
