MY SISTER PUSHED ME DOWN THE STAIRS AT HER WEDDING—THEN HER FIANCÉ SAW EVERYTHING.

Bellamy insisted on meeting Nora before she would explain. She arrived wearing oversized sunglasses despite the rain, her expression stripped of its usual smirk.

“I didn't think she'd actually do it,” she said.

Nora didn't rescue her from the silence. Neither did I.

Bellamy admitted Sloan had asked her to capture an embarrassing stumble. They wanted a video they could share privately as proof that I was making the wedding all about myself. Bellamy had agreed because she'd been promised a weekend at Sloan's favorite resort.

“Did you know she'd push me?” I asked.

“I knew she wanted you off the stairs. I thought she'd scare you and you'd use the elevator.”

“That's not the same as saying no.”

Bellamy looked away. “I know.”

Her phone contained texts about the plan and an unedited recording from the rehearsal. Nora arranged for the files to be preserved and documented rather than accepting only screenshots.

Then Bellamy told us something neither video could explain. Mom and Dad had discussed the wedding bill with Sloan several days earlier. The venue had threatened to suspend services unless a final payment arrived. Dad said he'd take care of it, and Mom warned everyone not to mention money to me.

“Your sister said you'd never approve,” Bellamy whispered. “Your dad said you wouldn't need to.”

I asked whether they knew I'd be injured.

Bellamy shook her head. “They expected you to get upset, leave the rehearsal, and be too embarrassed to come back. That's what they planned. The rest was worse than any of them expected.”

For the first time, the pieces formed a terrible, believable picture. Humiliate me. Remove me. Use my card. Blame me if anything went wrong.

Nora's assistant called before Bellamy left. The venue had located a second document signed by my father, naming me guarantor for any cancellation costs.