Chapter 2 - The Dossier OpensThe music stuttered back to life, a discordant jazz track that failed to thaw the freezing atmosphere of the reception hall. Guests murmured behind cupped hands, casting sideways glances at the bride with blood on her dress and the groom grinning like nothing had happened.
“Excuse me for just a moment, darling,” I said, gently slipping out of Grant’s grip. “I need to fix my makeup in the ladies' lounge.”
Grant waved a hand dismissively, already turning back to his groomsmen to boast about how he “put his wife in her place.”
I didn't head toward the lobby restrooms. I walked swiftly down the side corridor toward the bridal suite, where Brooke was already waiting by the door.
The moment I stepped inside, Brooke locked the heavy oak door behind us, her hands shaking as she grabbed my arms.
“Natalie! Oh my god, your face is bleeding! Are you okay? Should I call an ambulance—?”
“I’m fine, Brooke,” I whispered, cutting her off gently as I reached up to unfasten the tiny pearl button near my collar. I popped open the micro-recorder, dropping it into her open palm. “Is the file ready?”
Brooke’s eyes flashed with fierce determination. She unzipped her leather handbag and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored manila folder.
“Everything is in here,” Brooke said steadily. “The notarized prenup with Clause 14 highlighted in yellow, copies of the text messages where Grant threatened you last month, the emergency room discharge papers from when he shoved you against the kitchen counter in April, and the bank routing numbers for the offshore accounts he tried to hide from your forensic audit.”
I took the folder, holding it against my chest like a shield.
For eighteen months, Grant had convinced me, and everyone around us, that I was fragile, unstable, and entirely dependent on his goodwill. He thought my quietness during his rages was weakness. He never suspected that my background as a corporate compliance auditor meant I documented everything down to the minute and second.
“Where is Detective Vance?” I asked.
Brooke checked her phone. “He’s sitting in an unmarked sedan parked right outside the service entrance. He’s been briefed and has a copy of the digital audio file I just airdropped to him from your gown’s transmitter.”
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I looked at my reflection in the ornate golden vanity mirror. White frosting coated my hair, and a dark purple bruise was already blooming beneath my left eye.
“Let’s go give the groom his wedding present,” I said.
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