“I thought it would be sweet.”
“Then why were you furious when she arrived with them?”
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
At the edge of the gathering, Clara, the wedding coordinator, stepped forward.
“Mr. Bennett, may I speak with you privately?”
Vanessa’s head snapped around.
“No. Whatever you have to say can wait.”
Clara hesitated, holding a tablet against her chest.
Nathan looked at her.
“Tell me.”
The coordinator took a careful breath.
“One of our photographers was recording the preparations. I think you should see something before making any decisions.”
Vanessa moved toward her.
“That’s private wedding footage. You have no right to show it.”
Clara stepped back.
Nathan held out his hand.
“Please.”
The recording began with the ballroom before the guests entered.
Vanessa stood beside the refreshments table, apparently alone. She checked her phone, looked toward the doorway, and adjusted the lace of her dress.
Then she moved a coffee cup dangerously close to the table’s edge.
A few seconds later, Eleanor appeared carrying the roses.
Vanessa stepped backward, struck the cup with her elbow, and allowed the coffee to spill down the front of her own gown.
She barely reacted.
Instead, she immediately pointed at Eleanor.
Even without sound, the accusation was unmistakable.
Eleanor covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
Vanessa seized the bouquet from Eleanor’s hands and threw it to the marble floor.
Then she began shouting.
