Chapter 2
"Turn it off!"
Vanessa screamed so loudly that several guests stepped backward.
Marcus still had one hand around her arm.
My mother clutched the phone against her chest.
I stood between them.
"Nobody is touching that phone."
Vanessa looked at Marcus.
"Make her stop!"
I stared at my groom.
For one desperate moment, I wanted him to finally recognize what was happening.
I wanted him to stand beside me.
To ask my mother if she was all right.
To tell Vanessa she'd crossed a line no decent person would ever cross.
Instead, he looked at me.
"Nia, lower your voice."
I couldn't believe it.
"She's screaming, Marcus."
"You're both making a scene."
I felt something twist in my stomach.
My mother touched my arm.
"Sweetheart, maybe we should go somewhere quiet."
I looked at her swollen eyes.
Then at her ruined hair.
"No, Mom. You've spent your whole life keeping quiet so other people could feel comfortable."
I turned toward the guests.
"Everybody deserves to know why my mother was attacked."
Marcus stepped forward.
"That's enough."
I met his eyes.
"Then tell Vanessa to leave."
He hesitated.
Vanessa immediately grabbed his sleeve.
"Marcus, you know I wouldn't hurt anybody without a reason."
My heart seemed to stop.
Without a reason?
I looked at her.
"So you admit you hurt my mother?"
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
One of my bridesmaids, Jasmine, stepped beside me.
"I saw her do it."
I turned.
Jasmine had been helping the photographer near the table.
Her face was pale.
"Vanessa walked behind Evelyn, laughed, and cut her hair."
Vanessa snapped, "Stay out of this!"
Jasmine didn't move.
"No. I should've stopped you."
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
"Can we please take this somewhere private?"
I turned toward him.
"Are you worried about my mother?"
He didn't answer.
"Or are you worried about how this looks?"
His jaw tightened.
"That's unfair."
I laughed bitterly.
"Unfair?"
I looked toward the cake.
The flowers.
The beautiful tables.
I'd spent fourteen months planning this day.
My mother had used part of her savings to help pay for the reception.
She'd insisted.
"You're my only daughter, Nia. Let me give you something beautiful."
And now the woman wearing the dress I'd bought her had humiliated Mom in front of everyone.
I took my mother's phone.
"Play the rest."
Vanessa suddenly burst into tears.
"Nia, please!"
Her tone changed so quickly that I almost didn't recognize her.
"You're going to destroy everything."
I stared at her.
"Everything you planned?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I pressed play.
Vanessa's recorded voice filled the silent ballroom.
"After I ruin her mother, the bride will lose her temper."
My hands went cold.
The recording continued.
"She'll do something crazy in front of everybody. Then Marcus will finally understand he married the wrong woman."
The guests began whispering.
I looked at Marcus.
His face had drained of color.
Then another voice came through the speaker.
A man's voice.
"Vanessa, don't push it too far."
My stomach dropped.
It was Marcus.
My husband.
I looked at him.
He stared at the phone.
The recording continued.
Vanessa laughed.
"Trust me. Nia always reacts when somebody hurts her mother."
Marcus's recorded voice answered.
"Just don't embarrass me at the reception."
I couldn't breathe.
The ballroom disappeared around me.
All I could see was Marcus.
The man standing three feet away.
The man who'd held my hands at the altar.
The man who'd promised to protect me.
I whispered, "You knew?"
Marcus shook his head.
"Nia, listen."
"You knew she was planning something?"
"It's not what you think."
I looked down at the phone.
Then back at him.
"That was your voice."
He swallowed.
"I didn't know she was going to cut Evelyn's hair."
Vanessa stared at him.
"Marcus!"
He turned sharply.
"Don't."
My heart began pounding harder.
"So you knew she was trying to provoke me?"
He rubbed his face.
"We talked about a joke."
"A joke?"
I pointed toward my mother.
"Look at her!"
Mom was crying again.
But she wasn't looking at Vanessa anymore.
She was looking at Marcus.
With heartbreak.
"Marcus," she whispered, "I trusted you."
He looked away.
That told me everything.
I took one step backward.
Then another.
I remembered how he'd insisted Vanessa be a bridesmaid.
They'd grown up together.
They were supposedly like brother and sister.
I'd never been comfortable with how she behaved around him.
She called him late at night.
She interrupted our dates.
She made little jokes about how well she understood him.
Whenever I complained, Marcus accused me of jealousy.
Now I realized I'd ignored too much.
Jasmine took my arm.
"Nia, breathe."
I pulled away gently.
"I'm fine."
But I wasn't.
I felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from under me.
Vanessa suddenly pointed at the phone.
"That's edited!"
I stared at her.
"You didn't even know Mom was recording."
She faltered.
Marcus looked between us.
"Nia, can we talk alone?"
I looked at my wedding ring.
Then at him.
"Not until you tell me what else you knew."
He said nothing.
I felt the last fragile piece of trust between us begin to break.
One of the guests approached.
My uncle Raymond.
He had been my father's closest friend.
After Dad died, Uncle Raymond became the man I called whenever life felt too heavy.
He looked at Marcus.
"Son, I suggest you answer her."
Marcus straightened.
"This is between my wife and me."
Uncle Raymond didn't raise his voice.
"Then act like her husband."
The silence that followed was painful.
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
And she looked back at him.
It was a quick glance.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Understanding.
A secret.
I turned to Jasmine.
"Take Mom to the bridal suite. Stay with her."
My mother grabbed my wrist.
"Nia, don't let them separate us."
I hugged her.
"They won't."
Then I looked at Marcus.
"Give me one honest answer."
He swallowed.
"Okay."
"Did you and Vanessa plan to make me look unstable today?"
He stared at me.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then Vanessa whispered, "Marcus, remember what we agreed."
The words landed like a slap.
I looked from one face to the other.
And suddenly, I understood that the recording had only exposed part of their plan.
There was more.
May you like
Much more.
And my husband was still protecting it.
