Chapter 6 - The Script
We watched the photographer's clip three times. Celia wasn't wearing her veil yet. She stood with Tessa behind a flower arrangement, speaking too quietly for most guests to hear. The camera microphone caught every word.
"He'll rush in when she starts crying," Celia said. "Keep filming. We need something that makes him look dangerous."
Tessa laughed. "What if he doesn't?"
"Then we wait for another opportunity. He always thinks he's the hero."
I remembered the two women falling into the display stand. Celia had lunged toward June. I had stepped between them. If Tessa cut the footage at just the right moment, it might look as though I had attacked my bride without provocation.
Rebecca paused the video. "This changes everything. We need the original file, with its timestamp, before they circulate an edit."
The photographer sent the camera card to a digital evidence specialist. Rebecca called the investigating officer. I called June's school and told the principal that only I, Rebecca, and Vera Finch could pick her up. Celia was to have no contact with her.
By noon, a rumor had spread among the guests. Grant Ellis had lost his temper and hit the bride. Someone posted a picture of Celia sitting beside broken glass, mascara running down her cheeks. The image hid June entirely.
My phone rang continuously. Friends wanted explanations. Strangers wanted interviews. Celia's father, Victor Voss, left a message warning me to stop making false accusations about his daughter.
I left them unanswered. In the study, I found the gift Celia had given me two weeks earlier: a heavy silver pen engraved with our initials. I'd used it to sign seating charts, catering changes, and what I believed were routine vendor approvals.
Rebecca turned the pen over and went still.
May you like
"Grant," she said, "does this pen connect to a signing app?"
I looked at the tiny logo on the clip. It did.
