Sweet Little Lies

Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

I stand perfectly still at the head of the decorated table, holding the phone in my trembling hand. It’s hard to describe in words what I’m seeing, but I look at the photo and read the message again, my heart pounding in my chest.

The photograph itself has been altered by some amateur, but the effect is still chilling. It’s an engagement photo of Tucker and me, one that we shared on our social media and used to send out announcements. In the original, I am wearing a blue maxi dress, my hair blowing back over my shoulders as I gaze lovingly into Tucker’s eyes. He’s looking down at me, his expression filled with adoration, as we stand in front of the plantation with the Spanish moss floating in the wind behind us.

But in this twisted version, a knife has been Photoshopped into my neck, and blood is dripping all over my shoulder and down the sides of my body. Even though I can tell the photo has been altered, it still leaves a sick feeling in my stomach.

Underneath the grotesque image is a message that reads:

Time’s up.

Before I have time to even process the message, I take a screenshot. Finally I will have something I can show Tucker. He needs to see this. He needs to understand it’s not just harassment anymore—this is a direct threat.

But why? My mind reels with possibilities. Who hates me enough to go to such lengths? The two glasses of champagne I had earlier are suddenly making me feel dizzy, the room spinning around me in a blur of colors and shapes. I scan the space, looking toward the bar where Tucker was earlier, but I don’t see him. Panic rises in my throat, along with a sense of helplessness that threatens to consume me.

My breath starts coming in short, shallow gasps. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I need to get out of here, need to find Tucker and tell him what’s happening. Before I can make a move, I see a group of socialites walking toward me, led by the unmistakable figure of Caroline. She’s hard to miss in her bright yellow gown, her blonde hair cascading down her back in loose waves. Her eyes are fixed on me, a look of concern etched onto her flawless face.

There’s no way I can put on airs and speak to her right now , I think, my stomach twisting in knots. I can’t pretend that everything’s fine, can’t smile and nod and make small talk when my world is falling apart. Caroline Louise is just a few feet away now, her voice ringing out above the din of the party.

“Reese? Are you okay? You don’t look?—”

“I’m sorry. I need to find Tucker,” I blurt out, cutting her off mid-sentence. I clutch my phone tightly in my hand, the altered photo still glowing on the screen, and rush off in the direction of the plantation building, my heart pounding in my ears.

All around me, people are mingling and laughing, their faces bright with happiness and excitement. They have no idea what’s going on, no clue about the dark threats and twisted messages that have been haunting me for days.

“Reese,” a familiar voice says.

I turn around to see Tucker. His face immediately turns from one of excitement to concern. He rushes up to me, placing his hands on each of my shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk,” I say, my voice quivering slightly. I look around, seeing all the people around us. “Somewhere private.”

He grabs my hand and leads me into the building. My pulse slows a few beats as I feel the warmth of his skin, but the nausea remains. We stop just inside the main house, where there is a small sitting room. The room is dimly lit, with only the soft glow of a table lamp casting long shadows on the walls.

“What’s going on?” he asks, his strong hands cupping my shoulders once again. I realize I’m trembling.

“Remember all those messages I told you about, and what happened at the shop?” My voice quivers as I speak, barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he replies, his eyes searching mine.

“I got another message, and whoever it is, they want me to call off the wedding.”

“Let me see it,” he says, his tone serious.

I show him the message, the screen illuminating his face in an eerie blue light. A dark shadow covers his features, and he bites his lip, his jaw clenching. “Who would do this?”

“I don’t know. Did you find anything out from your tech guy?” I ask, hoping for some sort of lead.

He shakes his head, frustration evident in his movements. “I sent them the profile names you gave me, but without giving them your phone, they couldn’t find anything.”

“Tucker, do you have any idea why someone would be threatening me, why they don’t want us to get married?” My voice cracks, the weight of the situation bearing down on me.

He shakes his head earnestly, his eyes wide with sincerity. “I have no idea.”

“Do you think it’s—” Before I can get the name out, he cuts me off, his hand gently squeezing my shoulder.

“No, I don’t think it’s her. Honestly, I don’t know who it is.”

At that point, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. I lean into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the strength of his muscular arms around me. The sound of his steady heartbeat against my ear makes me relax slightly, the tension in my body easing. After a few minutes, he pulls away, his hands still resting on my arms.

“Do you think we should call the police?” I ask. He glances at the phone again, considering this option.

“The police are already aware of what happened at the shop. Honestly, I don’t think there’s much they can do.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, I don’t think this is anything to worry about. I’m going to be with you from now until the wedding, and I won’t let anything happen to you. Everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

His words are reassuring, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach remains.

“Okay.”

I trust Tucker. I know that he’s capable and will do anything to take care of me, but there’s still a nagging feeling that something else is going on, like a persistent itch I can’t quite scratch. My mind races with possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last.

“Do you think you can go back into the party, or are you ready to go home?” Tucker asks, his voice soft.

A queasy sensation roils through my abdomen. There’s no doubt I am upset. The thought of facing the crowd, their curious stares and whispered speculations, makes my skin crawl. “I don’t think I can do it,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay, listen. We’re going to go in and say goodbye to our guests, make an excuse that we need an early night for the big day tomorrow, and then we’ll go home together, okay?” His plan sounds reassuring, and I find myself nodding in agreement.

“Isn’t it bad luck to spend the last night before the wedding together?” I ask, a small smile tugging at the corners of my mouth despite the situation.

Tucker shakes his head, his fingers gently brushing against my cheek, his touch warm and comforting. “We don’t need luck—we have each other. We love each other. Everything’s going to be okay.” His words wrap around me like a warm blanket, and for a moment, I allow myself to believe him.

He leads me back into the party, the sound of laughter and clinking glasses flooding my ears. The room feels too bright, too loud, and I find myself clinging to Tucker’s arm as he makes an announcement about our departure. His voice is confident and smooth, betraying none of the concern he must be feeling. Then, with his arm securely around my waist, he walks me to the car and we head home, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffy atmosphere of the party.

When we arrive home that evening, the familiar scent of our shared space envelops me, a mixture of Tucker’s cologne and the faint aroma of the scented candles I love. I snuggle into his arms in our bed, my head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. I try to focus on the positive aspects of our upcoming wedding and our future together, pushing the nagging doubts and fears to the back of my mind.

As sleep begins to claim me, the last thing I remember is the comforting weight of Tucker’s arms around me, holding me close and making me feel safe, even if only for tonight.