Chapter 5 - Behind Closed Fitting Rooms
“Let’s show them the rest of the footage, shall we?” I said, pressing the small clicker in my hand.
The ballroom screens flashed. The image changed from the legal documents to a crystal-clear, high-definition video with crystal-clear audio recorded at precisely 1:15 PM that afternoon—in my bridal suite.
On the screen, Eleanor and Vanessa could be seen standing over the open garment bag containing The Mirror.
“Are you sure she won’t notice?” Vanessa’s voice echoed through the four hundred-seat ballroom, loud and unmistakable. “What if she wears the champagne backup gown?”
On screen, Eleanor laughed—a sharp, venomous sound that horrified everyone in the audience. “Let her wear the champagne rag. Let her look like a plain, boring secretary while you walk out looking like the queen of the Sterling dynasty. Julian has eyes, darling. When he sees you walking down that aisle in Thomas’s masterpiece, surrounded by the press, he won’t dare create a scene. He’ll take your hand to save face. And once you’re Mrs. Montgomery, his father’s lawyers will clear my debts before the week is out.”
“And what about Clara?” on-screen Vanessa had asked, running her hand down the silk bodice. “What if she cries?”
“Let her cry,” Eleanor had replied on the recording. “Clara was always Thomas’s little pet. She has his stubbornness, but she doesn’t have the stomach for a fight. She’ll pack her bags and leave town, just like we planned.”
The audio cut off.
The ballroom was as quiet as a tomb.
Several elderly women in the front row looked at Eleanor with open horror. Guests who had known our family for decades covered their mouths. There was no spin, no excuse, no plausible deniability left. The camera had captured every sneer, every calculation, every drop of malice.
Vanessa collapsed onto her knees right there on the altar. The heavy satin of The Mirror folded around her like a shroud. “No... no, no, no...” she sobbed, clutching her head. “You told me... Mom, you told me Julian wanted me! You told me he was tired of Clara!”
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“You idiot!” Eleanor suddenly screeched, lunging forward at Vanessa, completely forgetting the detectives. “You weak, stupid girl! You had one job—to stand there and look magnificent until the paperwork was signed! You ruined everything!”
“She didn't ruin it, Eleanor,” I said, stepping between my mother and my weeping sister. “You ruined it thirty years ago when you traded my father’s life’s work for your vanity.”
