PART 3
I zoomed in.
The tag showed the date and time of pickup.
10:47 a.m.
I looked toward the bathroom door.
“Chloe?”
No answer.
I knocked gently.
“It’s me.”
Still nothing.
I lowered my voice.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
For several seconds, there was silence.
Then I heard her whisper.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t want anyone downstairs to hear me.”
“They won’t.”
Another pause.
Then the lock clicked.
The door opened only a few inches.
Chloe’s eyes were red.
She had removed her engagement ring and was holding it tightly in her palm.
That frightened me more than her crying.
“Why did you take your ring off?”
She looked down at it.
“I don’t know.”
I stepped closer.
“You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
She shook her head.
“Your family hates me.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“They don’t.”
“Your sister does.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“She hates me,” Chloe continued. “And your parents keep making excuses for her. Your father told me to rent another dress like my mother didn’t spend months helping me choose that one.”
Her voice cracked.
I reached for her hand.
She let me take it.
“She wasn’t there just because she was my mother,” Chloe whispered. “She was there because she knew she wouldn’t have many more days.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
The words were soft.
But they hurt.
“You know the story,” she said. “You don’t know what that dress meant.”
I swallowed.
“Then tell me.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then she finally stepped out of the bathroom.
“When Mom was sick, she started forgetting things.”
We walked into the bedroom.
“She forgot appointments. She forgot where she put her glasses. Once she forgot the name of a neighbor she’d known for twenty years.”
Chloe sat on the edge of the bed.
“But she never forgot that dress.”
I sat beside her.
“She used to ask me if I still had it. Every few weeks.”
She smiled faintly through her tears.
“She would say, ‘Don’t let anyone talk you out of it. You looked beautiful in that one.’”
I felt something tighten inside my chest.
“She wanted to see me wear it.”
Chloe stared at the floor.
“She didn’t get to.”
I took her hand.
“But you will.”
She looked at me.
“I don’t know anymore.”
“You will.”
“It’s ruined.”
“I’ll replace every piece of lace if I have to.”
She shook her head.
“It’s not about the fabric.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“But this isn’t just about the dress anymore.”
Her expression changed.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Harper didn’t make a mistake.”
Chloe said nothing.
“She deliberately went upstairs.”
“She knew where it was.”
“Yes.”
“She opened the garment bag.”
“Yes.”
“She carried it outside.”
“Yes.”
“And then she threw it into the pool.”
“Yes.”
Chloe slowly nodded.
“She wanted to hurt me.”
I didn’t answer.
Because that was exactly what I was beginning to believe.
Then my phone vibrated.
I looked down.
It was a text from the boutique.
We received your photos. Please do not attempt to dry the gown yourself. We need to inspect the fabric immediately.
A second message arrived.
Also, we noticed something unusual about the garment bag in your photo. Please call us.
I stared at the screen.
Something unusual?
I called immediately.
A woman answered.
“Hello, this is Margaret from Bell & Rose Bridal.”
“This is Chloe’s fiancé.”
“Yes. We received your photos.”
“What did you notice?”
There was a pause.
“The garment bag appears to be different.”
“Different how?”
“The one in your photo from this morning had our silver security seal on the zipper.”
I looked at Chloe.
She leaned closer.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the bag that came back from your parents’ house shouldn’t have been opened and resealed without leaving visible damage.”
I looked toward the laundry room.
My stomach dropped.
“Are you saying somebody opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Could it have happened at the house?”
“Absolutely.”
“Could Harper have opened it?”
“I can’t tell you who did it.”
“But you’re saying it was opened.”
“I’m saying the seal was broken.”
I thanked her and hung up.
Chloe stared at me.
“She broke the seal.”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I stood up.
Then I remembered something.
Harper had said something by the pool.
I thought it was completely zipped shut.
But if she really thought it was zipped shut, why had the security seal been broken?
And why had she said that before anyone mentioned the seal?
I went downstairs.
The family was still gathered in the kitchen.
Nobody looked particularly guilty.
That was almost worse.
Harper was sitting at the counter eating strawberries.
She glanced at me.
“Is Chloe okay?”
I didn’t answer.
Mom frowned.
“She’s very upset.”
“I know.”
Dad poured himself another drink.
“It’s going to be fine.”
I placed my phone on the kitchen counter.
“Where is the video?”
Harper stopped chewing.
“What video?”
“The one you took.”
She swallowed.
“I didn’t take a video.”
“You did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
I stared at her.
“You had your phone out when I came outside.”
“So?”
“You were standing next to the pool.”
“So were six other people.”
“Harper.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Why are you interrogating me?”
“Because my wife’s wedding dress ended up in the pool.”
“You’re acting like I murdered somebody.”
I leaned forward.
“No. I’m acting like someone deliberately destroyed something that belonged to my wife.”
Dad slammed his glass down.
“Enough.”
I turned toward him.
“No.”
The room went silent.
Dad stared at me.
I had never spoken to him like that.
Not once.
“You don’t get to tell me enough anymore.”
“Watch your tone.”
“My tone?”
I laughed once.
“You’ve spent my entire life telling me Harper is just being Harper.”
Mom stepped between us.
“Please. Not tonight.”
“No, Mom.”
I looked at her.
