Chapter 3 - The Sister Who Came FirstFor several seconds, my ruined wedding dress stopped mattering.
So did the guests downstairs.
So did the champagne.
All I could hear was Lauren saying:
Mason asked me out.
I stared at the phone.
“Mason?”
His voice came quietly.
“It’s true.”
My mother sat down.
Dad rubbed one hand across his face.
Tessa muttered, “You have got to be kidding me.”
“How did you meet?” I asked.
Mason sighed.
“At a charity fundraiser.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
That was three years before Mason and I met.
One year before Lauren became engaged to her former fiancé, Brad.
“I asked Lauren to dinner,” Mason continued. “She declined. That was it.”
Lauren let out a sharp laugh.
“That wasn’t it.”
“Yes, it was.”
“You emailed me.”
“Once.”
“You asked again.”
“Because I thought maybe you were being polite the first time.”
“And then?”
“And then you made it clear you weren’t interested.”
Lauren’s cheeks reddened.
“What exactly did she say?” I asked.
Mason hesitated.
Lauren answered for him.
“I told him he wasn’t my type.”
She gave me a brittle smile.
“At the time he was still working for his father and driving that awful old Jeep.”
Dad’s eyebrows rose.
My sister had always cared about appearances.
Not necessarily money itself.
But what money looked like.
Restaurants people recognized.
Handbags with obvious logos.
Vacation photographs designed to make other people jealous.
Six years ago Mason had been working fourteen-hour days trying to rescue one failing division of his family business.
He wasn’t wealthy on paper.
At least not in a way Lauren could immediately see.
Two years later that division became Blackwell Development’s most profitable arm.
By the time I met Mason, he was successful in his own right.
Lauren had apparently noticed.
I suddenly remembered the first family dinner when I introduced him.
Lauren had stared at Mason for an unusually long time.
Then she disappeared into the kitchen.
I assumed she was upset because she had recently broken up with Brad.
Now the memory felt different.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked Mason.
“Because it meant nothing.”
“It clearly didn’t mean nothing to her.”
Lauren scoffed.
“You think this is about some rejected date?”
“What is it about?”
“You.”
She said the word as though it tasted poisonous.
“You walked into my life and took every version of it I was supposed to have.”
I stared at her.
“I didn’t even know Mason existed when you rejected him.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is you always arrive later and somehow get more.”
Her voice rose.
“You were younger, but you graduated first because you skipped a grade. You got Grandma’s attention. You got Dad’s approval. You got the job everybody bragged about. And when my engagement fell apart, you showed up three months later with Mason.”
“You cheated on Brad,” Dad said.
Lauren spun toward him.
“Stay out of it.”
“No.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Your engagement didn’t simply ‘fall apart.’ Brad discovered you were seeing someone else.”
Mom looked pained.
“David.”
“What? We’ve spent years rewriting history so Lauren never has to accept responsibility.”
Lauren’s eyes flashed.
“And Claire never does anything wrong?”
“This isn’t about Claire being perfect,” Dad said. “It’s about you destroying her wedding dress.”
“And drugging her champagne,” Tessa added.
“I did not drug anything!”
“Then what was it?”
Lauren said nothing.
A knock sounded downstairs.
Evan touched the radio clipped to his shoulder.
He listened.
Then looked at us.
“The officers have arrived.”
Lauren’s confidence disappeared.
Mom stood.
“Lauren, tell us what you put in that drink.”
“Nothing dangerous.”
My pulse quickened.
“What does that mean?”
“It was just something to make you sick.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“You tried to make me sick on my wedding day?”
Lauren rolled her eyes.
“Not hospital sick.”
“What did you use?”
“A laxative.”
Tessa made a sound of disgust.
“You’re insane.”
“I wanted the ceremony delayed.”
“Why?”
Lauren looked at me.
“Because Mason needed time.”
“For what?”
“To realize he was making a mistake.”
The police arrived less than five minutes later.
Two officers entered the bridal suite with the venue manager.
Lauren immediately changed.
The angry sister vanished.
Her shoulders collapsed.
Her voice softened.
She suddenly became confused.
Emotional.
Regretful.
It was a transformation I had watched many times growing up.
“I made a stupid prank,” she told the officers. “That’s all.”
One officer, a woman named Sergeant Morales, looked toward the glue-covered gown.
“And the dress?”
Lauren swallowed.
“I was upset.”
“The photographs?”
“I didn’t fake them.”
“Did you distribute them?”
“I left copies.”
“And the message to the groom?”
“I don’t know anything about that.”
I knew she was lying.
Not because of some magical sister instinct.
Because Lauren’s right hand was trembling.
It always did when she lied.
Sergeant Morales asked everyone except Lauren to step into the hallway.
My mother refused at first.
Then Dad gently guided her out.
I followed.
Once the door closed, I leaned against the wall.
I felt empty.
Tessa touched my shoulder.
“Claire.”
“My wedding starts in twenty-two minutes.”
Nobody knew what to say.
I laughed.
It came out sounding half hysterical.
“My wedding starts in twenty-two minutes and my sister is being questioned by police.”
Mom started crying.
“I’m so sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.”
“I should have seen it.”
“How?”
“She’s been angry for months.”
Dad looked toward the closed door.
“She asked me two weeks ago whether there was any way to stop a marriage license after it was issued.”
I turned.
“What?”
“I thought she meant because her friend was getting divorced.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it sounded like a random question.”
Evan approached us.
“Ms. Whitmore?”
I braced myself.
“What now?”
“There’s another piece of footage.”
Of course there was.
“What does she do?”
“She meets someone.”
“Who?”
“We’re not sure.”
He showed me the tablet.
The recording came from the rear parking lot at 9:48 that morning.
Lauren stood beside a silver SUV.
A man approached her.
Baseball cap.
Sunglasses.
His back mostly to the camera.
Lauren handed him a white envelope.
He handed her something small.
Then they separated.
Evan zoomed as much as the footage allowed.
“What did he give her?” I asked.
“We can’t tell.”
The man started toward a black sedan.
For one second he turned sideways.
My body went cold.
I knew him.
Not well.
But I knew him.
“That’s Owen.”
Dad frowned.
“Who?”
Mason’s former business partner.
Owen Mercer.
Two years earlier, Mason and Owen had launched a real-estate venture together.
The partnership ended badly after Mason accused Owen of diverting investor money into unauthorized projects.
No charges were filed.
But lawsuits followed.
Their friendship ended.
Their business collapsed.
Owen blamed Mason publicly.
And Lauren had just met him behind my wedding venue.
My phone rang again.
Mason.
I answered immediately.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Nathan recognized Owen too.”
“Why would Lauren be meeting him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he hate you enough to sabotage our wedding?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
Then Mason said something that made it worse.
“Claire, Owen called me last month.”
“What did he want?”
“He said I was about to discover what betrayal felt like.”
I closed my eyes.
“You never told me.”
“I thought he was talking about the lawsuit.”
“Apparently not.”
Evan’s radio crackled.
A voice spoke rapidly.
His eyebrows pulled together.
“What?”
He turned away.
“Repeat that.”
Then he looked at me.
“What is it?”
“The groom’s room.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What about it?”
“Someone broke into it.”
Mason heard through the phone.
“What?”
Evan continued listening.
Then said, “There’s an envelope on the table with Claire’s name on it.”
My mouth went dry.
“Don’t open it.”
Mason said, “Claire—”
“Wait for me.”
“What about the ceremony?”
I looked through the window.
Beyond the glass, I could see rows of white chairs.
Guests waiting.
Flowers moving gently in the breeze.
The pavilion where I had dreamed of marrying Mason.
I looked down at my silk robe.
Then toward the ruined gown.
For months, I had believed my wedding day would be about perfect flowers, music, photographs, and that magical walk toward the person I loved.
Now none of those things mattered.
Someone was trying to destroy my marriage before it started.
And I needed to know why.
“Delay the ceremony,” I said.
Tessa blinked.
“For how long?”
“As long as it takes.”
May you like
Then I looked at Evan.
“Take me to that envelope.”
Related Stories
