A collective gasp went through the room. That box was supposed to be empty, a sentimental keepsake I had placed on the vanity.
But on the screen, Valerie pulled out a delicate diamond necklace. It was my “something old,” a gift from Dustin’s grandmother to me.
She held it up to the light, a look of pure avarice on her face. Then she shoved it into her designer handbag.
The footage wasn’t done. The camera, which I had asked security to place after noticing things going missing from the suite all week, had audio.
“This will have to do,” Valerie muttered to herself on the screen. “If she doesn’t sign, I’ll have this. And Mark’s little photo project.”
My heart stopped. Mark? Dustin’s brother?
Then, the door to the bridal suite opened on the video, and Mark himself walked in. He was the best man. He was supposed to be helping Dustin get ready.
“Did you get it?” Mark asked, his voice clear as a bell over the sound system.
“Of course,” Valerie said, preening. “And the photos look fantastic. So believable.”
Mark laughed. “He’ll be so crushed. His perfect bride and his own brother.”
