Chapter 3 - The Night Before

Twenty hours earlier, I had been standing beneath the conservatory skylight, laughing at a crooked ribbon.

It was the last moment I remembered feeling ordinary.

"Your orchids are fighting back," Tessa said, balancing on a ladder as she straightened the arrangement above the rehearsal-dinner table.

I was wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt. My wedding gown hung upstairs in its protective bag. Nathan had gone to the hotel to meet his brother about some paperwork, and Dad was driving Mia back from her college dorm.

At 9:17 p.m., a message arrived from Nathan's number.

COME TO THE CONSERVATORY. ALONE. I NEED TO TELL YOU SOMETHING BEFORE TOMORROW.

I smiled like an idiot. I thought he was planning one of his terrible romantic surprises.

"Nate's being mysterious," I told Tessa. "I'll be right back."

The service lights were on, but the main conservatory lamps had been turned off. Outside, rain scratched at the glass roof. I heard a phone ringing in the far corner.

"Nathan?"

A man's voice came from behind the stone planter. "He chose the company. You should have chosen silence."

Someone stepped into the dim light wearing a maintenance jacket, a dark cap, and gloves. His face was partly hidden. I noticed a silver cuff link shaped like a compass fastened strangely at his wrist.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"Give me the file."

I tried to run. He grabbed my arm, and a bottle struck the planter. Liquid splashed across my cheek and both hands. Pain arrived like someone had opened an oven inside my skin.

I screamed. He slammed me against the glass and reached for my phone.

I kicked his knee. He cursed, and I heard another sound beneath his breathing: a man's voice playing from a phone on speaker. Nathan's voice.

"Make sure she can't talk at the wedding."

It was a short recording, and it repeated once before my attacker shut it off.

I fought harder. My fingers caught his wrist; a cuff link snapped free. I shoved him away and pulled the emergency drench hose from the plant-washing station. Water roared over my face, and the man ran.

Through the blur I saw a second figure waiting at the far door: the same broad-shouldered man who had just left the ceremony.

When Dad found me, I was on the wet tile, trying to breathe.

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I pressed the broken cuff link into his palm and whispered, "Don't tell Nathan until we know if it's really his voice."

Dad looked at the tiny silver compass. "Oh, Evelyn," he said. "I know whose this is."