Chapter 2

My right hand was still shaking when I went to the back office to pull the security footage.

The staff in the monitoring room recognized me.

"Miss Fox, is there something you need?"

"I want to see the full footage of the rehearsal just now."

He looked uncomfortable.

"Mr. Stephens gave instructions that all footage be reviewed by him first."

"It's my account, it's my wedding. Why can't I see it?"

Just as he was about to pull it up, Kay arrived.

She leaned against the door frame, her face pale, but her voice carried a smile.

"Marilyn, are you really going to look into this?"

The staff member made an excuse about grabbing a hard drive and left.

I turned on the recording.

Kay glanced at it and smiled.

She stroked her lower belly.

"This baby was restless all last night. Bernard was so worried, he said he'd have you help take care of it from now on."

My stomach turned.

"Kay, how do you have the nerve?"

She tilted her head and smiled.

"Because he's the one who gave me the nerve."

I turned to leave, and she suddenly grabbed my right hand, her nails digging hard into my palm.

"Marilyn, don't go."

I shook her off.

"Let go!"

She used the momentum to press my hand against her belly and fell backward.

Behind her were three steps.

She fell so precisely, her waist and belly clearing the sharp corner, her knees slamming hard against the edge.

Blood seeped down her calves into the hem of her skirt, and from the doorway it looked like she was bleeding under her dress.

She wasn't betting on the baby.

She was betting that everyone would see the blood first, and hear her cry after.

That was the moment Bernard rushed in.

"Kay!"

Kay sobbed, trembling.

"Bernard, I only wanted to talk Marilyn out of canceling the wedding, and she pushed me..."

I looked down at my own hand.

The spot where she'd dug into my old scar had split open, blood dripping down my palm onto the red carpet.

I pointed at the cameras.

"Pull the full footage. It'll show her grabbing my hand."

Bernard scooped Kay up and glanced at me.

No shock, no concern.

Only calculation.

When the manager and medical staff arrived, I said again:

"Pull the footage."

But Bernard said to the manager:

"Seal the footage for now. Don't let it get out."

My head snapped toward him.

"Bernard!"

He avoided my eyes and said to the medical staff:

"She's been emotionally unstable lately. She did get into a physical altercation with Kay just now."

He never said, out loud, that I pushed her.

But everyone understood.

I was the emotionally unstable bride, and Kay was the pregnant woman I'd hurt.

As she was being lifted into the ambulance, she cried and clung to Bernard:

"Bernard, are we going to lose our baby?"

Bernard held her hand.

"No. I'm here."

I stood where I was, blood dripping onto the red carpet.

Ten minutes later, a video appeared in the family group chat.

Kay's skirt stained with blood, and me cropped down to a shot from behind, mid-push.

Caption:

"On the eve of the wedding, bride allegedly shoves her pregnant bridesmaid."

Bernard called.

"Marilyn, Kay's fine for now."

I asked:

"So you know she's fine?"

"And you know I didn't push her?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Now isn't the time to get into who's to blame."

I laughed.

"Then when is the time? After I've been cursed out? After your project is signed? Or after her baby is born?"

His voice went cold.

"Marilyn, she's already bleeding!"

I looked at my hand, stitched up until it had gone purple.

"I'm bleeding too."

He said:

"You only hurt your hand."

Then he added:

"The wedding goes ahead as planned tomorrow. I'll keep tonight's business quiet."

I asked softly:

"What you're keeping quiet—is it the rumor, or my innocence?"

He didn't answer.

The nurse said if it split open again it might leave a scar.

I looked at the ugly stitches across my palm.

A scar would be fine.

Something has to remind me not to be blind again.