They were familiar.
That evening, Vivian hosted a private dinner for wedding sponsors.
Around her neck rested my late grandmother’s emerald necklace.
A family heirloom I had loaned her for engagement week.
She raised her champagne glass.
“Soon…
Nathan’s world and mine…
will become one.”
“Not quite.”
Every guest turned.
My chief counsel, Olivia Brooks, entered carrying a sealed folder.
Vivian frowned.
“This dinner is private.”
Olivia calmly placed the folder beside me.
Inside were enlarged security photographs from the ballroom.
One frame showed Vivian’s hand flat against my mother’s back.
The next captured Rose falling into the fountain.
Another preserved Vivian laughing.
The accompanying audio recording was even clearer than the orchestra.
Charles’s face tightened.
“Security footage can disappear.”
“It already exists in six encrypted locations,” I replied.
For the first time…
Vivian’s smile disappeared.
Then she recovered.
“You’d never humiliate me publicly.
You need the Ashcroft name.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“That’s the mistake your family keeps making.”
