Chapter 16
Wreckage her father two steps back for the handoff. Jane twelve meters behind in the seats. Security flanks the perimeter.
Keep your body between him and Natalie.
Keep your eyes on Jane.
Containment is everything. Timing is everything. And when Blake's face catches up to the reality his ego won't see coming, I'll be exactly where I need to be.
The string quartet shifts to Pachelbel. The cue.
The processional begins.
Bridesmaids first—Barbie, Sloane, Merritt, Katelyn and two other women. Practiced smiles. Measured steps. Katelyn's eyes are red-rimmed, but she holds her bouquet steady.
Then Natalie.
She appears at the end of the aisle on her father's arm, and a collective intake of breath ripples through the guests. White gown. Cathedral train. Hair swept up with pearl pins that catch the afternoon sun. She is, objectively, stunning.
And underneath the couture and the composure, I can see it—the finest tremor in her bouquet hand. The way her jaw is set half a millimeter too tight. The controlled pace of someone walking toward the future she’s chosen for herself.