But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lily reach across the table for her glass of apple juice. Her little elbow bumped into a passing waiter’s tray.
The waiter stumbled. A single glass of red wine tipped precariously, slipped off the edge of the tray, and shattered on the stone patio. A few bright, crimson drops splashed upward, landing directly onto the hem of the pristine, $20,000 custom white wedding dress of the bride, who had unfortunately just walked past our table.
The loud shatter of glass cut through the jazz music. The entire garden suddenly fell deathly silent. Every eye turned to our dark corner.
Chapter 2: The Push into the Fountain
“My dress!”
Chloe’s shriek tore through the stunned silence of the reception like a siren. She looked down at the tiny, almost imperceptible red specks near her ankles and reacted as if she had been shot. Her face contorted into an ugly, theatrical mask of absolute horror.
“My twenty-thousand-dollar custom Vera Wang!” Chloe wailed, pointing a trembling, manicured finger at Lily, who shrank back in her chair, her bottom lip beginning to quiver in terror. “You little brat! You ruined my wedding!”
I was out of my chair in a fraction of a second. I frantically knelt down onto the hard stone patio, pulling a clean white cloth napkin from the table, desperately trying to dab the tiny stains before they set into the delicate silk.
“I’m so sorry, Chloe,” I pleaded, my heart hammering in my chest. “Lily didn’t mean to. It was an accident, she just bumped the tray—”
“Get your filthy hands off my dress!” Chloe shrieked, snatching the fabric away from me as if I were diseased.
The crowd of wealthy guests had formed a tight circle around us, whispering and pointing. I felt a dozen pairs of eyes burning into my back, judging the “poor, pathetic sister” who couldn’t even control her child.
