Chapter 5 - The Second Woman
Constance rose so abruptly that her chair struck the dressing table.
"What video?"
Spencer stared at his phone.
"Julian says Marjorie entered the bridal suite at eleven seventeen."
He looked up.
"She removed the garment bag and returned it four minutes later."
My stomach tightened.
"Returned it?"
"Yes."
I glanced at the sludge-covered jacket.
There was no chance anyone had mistaken that mess for an accident.
Spencer continued.
"At eleven thirty-one, someone else entered."
Constance's face drained.
"Who?"
Spencer looked at me.
"Julian wants us downstairs."
I picked up my father's letter.
My mother gently touched my arm.
"Erin, before we go, I want you to remember something."
I turned.
"Your father believed people deserved to be judged by what they actually did."
She looked toward Constance.
"Not by what somebody said they did."
Then she added, "And not by who their parents were."
I nodded.
The next twenty minutes changed everything.
Julian had arranged for us to meet in a small conference room near the club's administrative offices.
The blinds were drawn.
A laptop sat in the center of the table.
Two security employees stood near the door.
Dana was already there.
So was Marjorie Bell.
She sat at the far end of the table, twisting a tissue between her fingers.
The moment she saw me, she began crying.
"Captain Lennox, I'm so sorry."
I stopped.
"Marjorie."
Her shoulders shook.
"I didn't know."
"Didn't know what?"
She looked toward Constance.
"I thought Mrs. Prescott had spoken to you."
My future mother-in-law closed her eyes.
Julian pulled out a chair.
"Perhaps everyone should sit."
Nobody did.
I looked at Marjorie.
"What were you told?"
She glanced at Constance.
Then back at me.
"Mrs. Prescott asked me to remove the Army uniform from your suite and replace it with the ivory gown."
I felt a familiar ache beneath my ribs.
Constance said nothing.
Marjorie continued.
"She told me you had agreed to the change but were too busy to make it yourself."
I stared at her.
"She lied."
Marjorie nodded miserably.
"Yes, ma'am."
Constance whispered, "Marjorie."
The older woman turned toward her.
"I've worked for you seventeen years, Mrs. Prescott."
Her voice shook.
"I've done everything you've asked."
Tears ran down her cheeks.
"But you told me that young woman had agreed."
Constance looked away.
Marjorie took a breath.
"I carried the garment bag into the small linen room."
She paused.
"I removed the jacket and hung it on the rack."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because I thought it should be protected."
She wiped her eyes.
"I didn't want it wrinkled."
Dana stood beside me, her arms crossed.
"And then?"
"I went downstairs to get the gown."
"Where was the uniform?"
"On the rack."
Julian turned the laptop toward us.
The video showed a service corridor.
At the upper right corner, the time read 11:17.
Marjorie appeared carrying a long garment bag.
She entered a storage room.
Four minutes later, she came out carrying the same bag.
Nothing looked unusual.
Then Julian moved to the next recording.
11:31.
A woman in a pale blue dress appeared at the end of the corridor.
She looked over her shoulder.
Then she walked directly to the linen room.
My heart stopped.
I knew that woman.
Spencer leaned forward.
"That can't be right."
The woman disappeared inside.
Eight minutes later, she emerged carrying a white plastic shopping bag.
She moved quickly toward the service elevator.
Julian paused the recording.
The woman's face was perfectly visible.
Her blonde hair was pinned in an elaborate twist.
A pearl bracelet circled her wrist.
And she was wearing the same pale blue dress she had shown everyone at the rehearsal dinner the night before.
"Vivian," Spencer whispered.
His cousin.
Vivian Prescott.
Thirty-seven years old.
Elegant.
Married to a real estate developer.
A senior member of the Prescott Foundation's board.
And one of the loudest people in his family whenever someone made a joke about my military background.
I looked at Spencer.
"What was Vivian doing in the linen room?"
He shook his head.
"I have no idea."
Julian resumed the video.
At 11:44, Vivian returned carrying the garment bag.
She entered my bridal suite using a temporary access card.
Seven minutes later, she came out empty-handed.
My skin went cold.
Julian paused the recording again.
"Her card was issued this morning."
I looked at him.
"By whom?"
"That is what we're determining."
Dana leaned forward.
"Can you confirm the room was accessed by no one else during that period?"
"Based on the lock records and camera footage, yes."
I stared at the screen.
Vivian had entered my room carrying the garment bag.
She had stayed seven minutes.
Then she had walked away.
Seven minutes was enough to destroy my uniform.
Enough to pin a note to my ribbons.
Enough to throw my father's picture into a bag.
I turned to Constance.
"Did you tell Vivian to do this?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I searched her face.
"Did you know?"
"No."
Spencer looked at his mother.
"Mom."
She met his eyes.
"I wanted Erin to wear the gown."
Her voice was thin.
"I told Marjorie to remove the uniform."
She looked at me.
"That was wrong."
Then she looked at the screen.
"But I never asked Vivian to destroy anything."
I wanted to believe her.
I didn't know whether I could.
Julian folded his hands.
"Miss Prescott is still on the property."
Spencer reached for his phone.
"Then I'm calling her."
"Before you do," Julian said, "there's something else."
He opened another file.
A still image appeared.
Vivian stood beside the reception staff entrance at 11:56.
She was speaking to a man wearing a gray suit.
I recognized him immediately.
Robert Prescott.
Spencer's uncle.
Constance's younger brother.
He was sixty-one, broad-shouldered, and perpetually red-faced, with the booming laugh of a man who had never encountered a conversation he couldn't dominate.
Robert chaired the Prescott Foundation.
He also managed several real estate trusts established by Spencer's late father.
Spencer frowned.
"Uncle Robert?"
Julian nodded.
"The cameras captured the conversation but not the audio."
The recording showed Vivian handing Robert a folded piece of paper.
He read it.
Smiled.
Then patted her shoulder.
I felt a slow chill spread through me.
"What was on that paper?"
Nobody answered.
Julian played the final clip.
Robert walked toward the chapel.
Vivian entered the ballroom.
Everything looked ordinary.
Except now I knew that my wedding uniform had been destroyed shortly before the two of them met.
Dana looked at me.
"Erin."
I turned.
She pointed toward the paused image.
"Look at his hand."
I leaned closer.
Robert held a folded white card.
Even from that distance, I could see the decorative black lettering across the front.
My throat tightened.
"Can you enlarge it?"
Julian zoomed in.
The image became grainy.
But three words were still visible.
Know your place.
Spencer stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
"I'm going to find them."
I caught his wrist.
"Wait."
He looked at me.
"Erin."
"Think."
His breathing was sharp.
"About what?"
"Why would they do this?"
He stared at the screen.
I looked at Constance.
"Did Vivian know about Catherine Vale?"
Her face went rigid.
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
I turned to Spencer.
"Did Robert?"
He hesitated.
"I don't know."
Constance answered.
"No."
Her voice was firm.
"Walter and I never told him."
I looked back at the screen.
Vivian.
Robert.
A ruined uniform.
A note designed to sound exactly like Constance.
And a father who had once defended the woman now accused of destroying everything his daughter loved.
It felt connected.
But I couldn't yet see how.
Spencer called Vivian.
She answered on the third ring.
"Spence!"
Her voice was bright.
"Isn't this exciting?"
He didn't waste time.
"Where are you?"
A pause.
"At the reception."
"Come to Julian's office."
Another pause.
"Why?"
"Because we have camera footage of you entering Erin's suite."
Silence.
Then Vivian laughed.
"What?"
"Don't make me repeat it."
Her voice sharpened.
"Spencer, you sound upset."
"Come downstairs."
"Listen, whatever Erin told you—"
He interrupted her.
"Erin didn't tell me anything."
His jaw tightened.
"The cameras did."
Vivian stopped talking.
Then she said quietly, "You need to speak to Uncle Robert first."
And hung up.
Spencer stared at his phone.
I looked at Dana.
She was already watching me.
We both understood the same thing.
Vivian had not denied entering the room.
She had directed us toward Robert.
Constance sank into a chair.
"My brother."
Her voice was barely audible.
I looked at her.
"What?"
She stared at the paused video.
"Robert told me he would handle the uniform problem."
My blood turned cold.
Spencer rounded on her.
"What?"
Constance covered her mouth.
"He said nobody should have to see the family embarrassed."
I felt my chest tighten.
"You told him?"
She nodded weakly.
"I complained about the uniform."
Spencer stared at her.
"And what did he say?"
Constance whispered, "He said he'd make sure Erin understood."
For a moment, the entire room seemed to go silent.
Then I looked at the photograph of Vivian and Robert.
I understood one thing clearly.
My future mother-in-law had opened the door.
And somebody else had decided how much damage to do after walking through it.
But I still didn't know why.
That answer came when Julian's office phone rang.
He answered.
Listened for a few seconds.
Then looked directly at Spencer.
"Your uncle is requesting that we release the chapel and reception rooms."
Spencer frowned.
"What?"
Julian swallowed.
"He says the Prescott family is withdrawing financial support for the wedding."
I stared at him.
"The wedding is already paid for."
Julian nodded.
"Yes, Captain."
"Then he can't cancel it."
"Not ordinarily."
His expression grew troubled.
"But the club's event contract was signed by Robert Prescott."
May you like
Spencer went pale.
And Julian added, "He's threatening to invoke the cancellation clause unless you both meet with him immediately."
