Chapter 15 - The Second Cut
At first, I thought the scissors meant Sloan had planned to damage my dress. Then I remembered how loose one brace strap had felt before the rehearsal.
I hadn't touched that strap after the physical therapist had adjusted it the previous afternoon. Had someone tampered with it?
Nora made me slow down. The photograph alone proved only that Sloan had been holding scissors near me. It did not prove she'd cut the brace.
I checked my bag. The brace had been replaced at the hospital, but Greer had kept the damaged one along with my belongings. Its lower strap was frayed near the fastening.
We documented the condition and gave the information to the investigator. I couldn't know whether the fabric had been cut, snagged during the fall, or worn down before it. Still, the possibility made my hands shake.
That night, Sloan left a voicemail that sounded nothing like an apology.
“You always made me feel like the stupid one,” she said. “Even when you were lying there, everyone rushed to you. Thatcher looked at you like you were the only person in the room.”
I listened once and saved it.
Her cruelty had never really been about a brace or a wedding photograph. It was about a family that had taught one daughter she deserved the world and the other she owed it.
Then another blow landed. Dad's lawyer filed a civil complaint accusing me of damaging the wedding business arrangements and making false public allegations. I hadn't posted anything, but the complaint was real. It would cost time and money to answer.
Greer found me staring at the court papers.
“Does he ever stop?” I asked.
May you like
“Maybe not,” she said. “But you can stop treating every move he makes as an order.”
The following morning, my surgeon delivered the news I feared most: nerve recovery was slower than expected, and I might never return to ship inspections exactly as before.
