Chapter 8
The reception was in full swing by 6 PM. The ballroom glittered with fairy lights and crystal. The champagne tower sparkled under the chandelier.
I circulated through the crowd, accepting congratulations, smiling until my face ached. Every person who hugged me, I wondered: are you one of them?
At 6:30, I spotted the mysterious man from the lobby. He was dressed as a server now, moving between tables with a tray. Our eyes met across the room.
He gave me the smallest nod.
Who was he? An ally? A trap?
I couldn't worry about that now. 7 PM was approaching.
Right on schedule, Sophie appeared at my elbow with a champagne flute. "The signature cocktail! Ryan had it made just for you. 'Bella's Forever.'"
I took the glass. Smiled. Raised it to my lips.
And in one smooth motion, I pretended to drink while spilling most of it down the front of my dress.
"Oh no!" I gasped, jerking back.
Sophie's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Bella! Your dress!"
"It's fine, it's fine—I'm so clumsy." I laughed, setting the glass down. "I need to go clean up."
I hurried to the bathroom, but not the main one—I'd learned that was a death trap. Instead, I went to the staff bathroom near the kitchen.
I locked the door and breathed.
One down.
Six PM to seven: poisoned drink avoided.
I checked the time. 7:04 PM.
Five hours to go.
I cleaned my dress as best I could and returned to the reception. Ryan was at the center of a group of his lawyer friends, laughing. He caught my eye and winked.
Monster.
At 7:45, I positioned myself near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by people. Maximum visibility. If someone wanted to kill me, they'd have to do it in front of witnesses.
The mysterious server passed by again. This time, he slipped a folded napkin onto my table.
I opened it under the tablecloth.
[Parking garage. 8:15. Black sedan. Don't go outside alone.]
He knew about the car. He knew the exact time.
I looked up, but he was gone.
At 8:00, Victoria approached me. Her smile was grandmother-warm. "Bella, darling, I left your wedding gift in the car. Would you walk with me to get it?"
There it was.
The lure to get me to the parking garage at 8:15.
"I'd love to," I said, "but my feet are killing me in these heels. Can Ryan get it?"
A muscle twitched near Victoria's eye. "Of course, dear. I'll ask him."
She walked away, and I watched her pull out her phone and send a text with sharp, agitated thumbs.
I'd disrupted the plan. Good.
But I knew from experience—disrupt one attempt, and another would follow quickly.
At 9:00, Sophie grabbed my hand. "Come on! The photographer wants balcony shots with the sunset!"
The balcony.
Death number three.
"Actually, I'm not feeling great," I said. "The champagne hit me hard. Can we do indoor shots instead?"
Sophie frowned. "But the sunset, Bella—"
"Inside. Please."
Something crossed Sophie's face. Frustration? Or a signal being missed?
"Fine," she said tightly. "I'll tell the photographer."
Two down. Three to go.
The hours crawled. I stayed visible. Stayed in crowds. Stayed alive.
At 10:30, I was cornered by Ryan.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling me into a quiet alcove. "You've been distant all night. Is everything okay?"
His hand cupped my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.
The same hand that watched his first wife drown.
"I'm perfect," I whispered. "Just overwhelmed."
"I love you, Bella. You know that, right?"
I nodded because if I spoke, I would scream.
He kissed my forehead and left.
11 PM. One hour remaining.
The coatroom. That's where death number five happened. I'd been strangled there.
I would not go near that coatroom.
I stayed glued to Molly—my college friend who had no idea any of this was happening—and danced with her until my legs burned.
11:30. Thirty minutes.
11:45. Fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes and I'd be free. Free to take my evidence to the FBI. Free to destroy Ryan Carter and his murderous mother.
Eleven fifty.
Eleven fifty-five.
The mysterious server appeared beside me one last time.
"Almost there," he murmured.
And then the lights went out.
I circulated through the crowd, accepting congratulations, smiling until my face ached. Every person who hugged me, I wondered: are you one of them?
At 6:30, I spotted the mysterious man from the lobby. He was dressed as a server now, moving between tables with a tray. Our eyes met across the room.
He gave me the smallest nod.
Who was he? An ally? A trap?
I couldn't worry about that now. 7 PM was approaching.
Right on schedule, Sophie appeared at my elbow with a champagne flute. "The signature cocktail! Ryan had it made just for you. 'Bella's Forever.'"
I took the glass. Smiled. Raised it to my lips.
And in one smooth motion, I pretended to drink while spilling most of it down the front of my dress.
"Oh no!" I gasped, jerking back.
Sophie's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, Bella! Your dress!"
"It's fine, it's fine—I'm so clumsy." I laughed, setting the glass down. "I need to go clean up."
I hurried to the bathroom, but not the main one—I'd learned that was a death trap. Instead, I went to the staff bathroom near the kitchen.
I locked the door and breathed.
One down.
Six PM to seven: poisoned drink avoided.
I checked the time. 7:04 PM.
Five hours to go.
I cleaned my dress as best I could and returned to the reception. Ryan was at the center of a group of his lawyer friends, laughing. He caught my eye and winked.
Monster.
At 7:45, I positioned myself near the center of the ballroom, surrounded by people. Maximum visibility. If someone wanted to kill me, they'd have to do it in front of witnesses.
The mysterious server passed by again. This time, he slipped a folded napkin onto my table.
I opened it under the tablecloth.
[Parking garage. 8:15. Black sedan. Don't go outside alone.]
He knew about the car. He knew the exact time.
I looked up, but he was gone.
At 8:00, Victoria approached me. Her smile was grandmother-warm. "Bella, darling, I left your wedding gift in the car. Would you walk with me to get it?"
There it was.
The lure to get me to the parking garage at 8:15.
"I'd love to," I said, "but my feet are killing me in these heels. Can Ryan get it?"
A muscle twitched near Victoria's eye. "Of course, dear. I'll ask him."
She walked away, and I watched her pull out her phone and send a text with sharp, agitated thumbs.
I'd disrupted the plan. Good.
But I knew from experience—disrupt one attempt, and another would follow quickly.
At 9:00, Sophie grabbed my hand. "Come on! The photographer wants balcony shots with the sunset!"
The balcony.
Death number three.
"Actually, I'm not feeling great," I said. "The champagne hit me hard. Can we do indoor shots instead?"
Sophie frowned. "But the sunset, Bella—"
"Inside. Please."
Something crossed Sophie's face. Frustration? Or a signal being missed?
"Fine," she said tightly. "I'll tell the photographer."
Two down. Three to go.
The hours crawled. I stayed visible. Stayed in crowds. Stayed alive.
At 10:30, I was cornered by Ryan.
"Hey," he said softly, pulling me into a quiet alcove. "You've been distant all night. Is everything okay?"
His hand cupped my face. His thumb traced my cheekbone.
The same hand that watched his first wife drown.
"I'm perfect," I whispered. "Just overwhelmed."
"I love you, Bella. You know that, right?"
I nodded because if I spoke, I would scream.
He kissed my forehead and left.
11 PM. One hour remaining.
The coatroom. That's where death number five happened. I'd been strangled there.
I would not go near that coatroom.
I stayed glued to Molly—my college friend who had no idea any of this was happening—and danced with her until my legs burned.
11:30. Thirty minutes.
11:45. Fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes and I'd be free. Free to take my evidence to the FBI. Free to destroy Ryan Carter and his murderous mother.
Eleven fifty.
Eleven fifty-five.
The mysterious server appeared beside me one last time.
"Almost there," he murmured.
And then the lights went out.