Chapter 2 - The Name Victoria Never Wanted to Hear)
Upstairs, Victoria believed she had accounted for every possible disaster.
Rain.
Power failure.
Late musicians.
Drunken relatives.
Unflattering photographs.
A former girlfriend of Damian's trying to enter the venue.
She had backup plans for all of them.
She had not prepared for Claire Bennett's daughter.
Victoria stood in the bridal suite while four attendants adjusted the train of her dress.
She stared at Marcus's message.
Two children entered through service corridor. Older girl asking for Damian. Nora Bennett assisting them.
For several seconds, Victoria could not move.
Her maid of honor noticed.
"Victoria?"
"I'm fine."
"You look pale."
"I said I'm fine."
Victoria typed.
Do not let Damian see them.
Marcus responded.
Who are they?
Victoria stared at the words.
Then deleted her first answer.
She typed again.
Probably scammers attracted by media coverage. Remove them quietly.
A knock sounded.
Damian's mother, Margaret Vance, entered.
She was sixty two, elegant without appearing to try, silver threaded through dark hair.
"You look beautiful."
Victoria forced a smile.
"Thank you."
Margaret studied her.
"Are you nervous?"
"No."
"Everyone should be a little nervous before marriage."
"I've waited seven years for this."
Margaret's gaze sharpened slightly.
"So you have."
Victoria turned toward the mirror.
She had waited longer than that.
She had waited since she was twenty three and learned exactly what the Vance name could buy.
Access.
Power.
Protection.
A future no one could take away.
And she had nearly lost it because of Claire Bennett.
Once.
She would not lose it again.
Margaret adjusted a loose pin in Victoria's veil.
"Damian seems distracted today."
"Business."
"He told me it's not business."
Victoria's eyes met Margaret's in the mirror.
"What did he say?"
"Only that weddings make people think about roads not taken."
Victoria smiled.
"Everyone becomes sentimental at weddings."
"Perhaps."
Margaret walked toward the door.
"Did you ever meet Claire Bennett?"
Victoria's fingers tightened around her bouquet.
She did not turn.
"Who?"
Margaret watched her reflection.
"Claire Bennett."
"No."
"My mistake."
"Why would you ask?"
Margaret opened the door.
"Because Damian mentioned her last night."
Victoria turned now.
"What did he say?"
Margaret's expression was calm.
"That he still doesn't understand why she disappeared."
The door closed.
Victoria remained frozen.
Her phone vibrated again.
Marcus.
The girl has a photograph.
Victoria typed so fast she almost dropped the phone.
Of what?
No response.
She called.
Marcus answered quietly.
"What photograph?"
"I don't know."
"Take it."
"That may create a scene."
"I don't care."
"Damian's staff are around."
"Then move the children somewhere private."
There was a pause.
"Victoria, who is the girl?"
"Nobody."
"She says Damian is her father."
Silence.
Victoria's heart began pounding.
"She said that?"
"Not to me. Nora told one of the staff."
Victoria closed her eyes.
Eight years.
Eight years of controlling the story.
Eight years of letters intercepted, numbers changed, records buried, questions redirected.
Eight years of making Damian believe Claire had chosen money over him.
Eight years of convincing Claire that Damian had abandoned her.
And now an eight year old girl was standing downstairs.
A living calendar.
A walking calculation.
Damian would count backward once.
That was all it would take.
"Get them out," Victoria whispered.
"How?"
"I don't care."
"Damian will ask questions if security drags two children through the lobby."
"Then don't use security."
"What are you suggesting?"
Victoria opened her eyes.
"You're the professional."
She ended the call.
Across the hall, Damian was standing in front of a mirror while his best man adjusted his bow tie.
"You look like you're heading into a shareholder meeting," his friend Ethan said.
Damian smiled faintly.
"Maybe I'd prefer one."
"Too late."
Ethan handed him a glass of bourbon.
Damian refused it.
His phone buzzed.
A notification from the wedding venue's security system.
Restricted service corridor access.
Normally he would ignore it.
Today something made him open it.
A camera image loaded.
A hallway.
A catering cart.
Nora Bennett.
And two children.
Damian enlarged the image.
The older girl was looking directly toward the camera.
His chest tightened.
Ethan glanced over.
"Problem?"
"I don't know."
Damian zoomed in again.
The girl looked familiar.
Not because he had met her.
Because he had seen those eyes somewhere.
Years ago.
He searched his memory.
Nothing came.
Then the camera feed went black.
Damian frowned.
"What happened?"
"To what?"
"The service camera."
He refreshed the page.
Offline.
Damian called Marcus.
No answer.
He tried again.
Marcus answered.
"Everything okay?"
"Why did Camera Twelve go offline?"
"Maintenance issue."
"During my wedding?"
"Bad timing."
"There are two kids in that corridor."
Marcus paused.
"Caterer's family."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Damian stared at the dead feed.
"Get the camera back online."
"Already working on it."
They hung up.
Damian looked toward the window.
A strange pressure formed in his chest.
Ethan laughed.
"If you're thinking about escaping, the roof has a helicopter pad."
Damian did not smile.
"Do you remember Claire Bennett?"
Ethan's expression changed.
"That's a name I haven't heard in years."
"Neither have I."
"Why today?"
"I dreamed about her last night."
Ethan said nothing.
Damian looked at the wedding ring waiting on the table.
"I dreamed she was trying to tell me something."
Downstairs, Emily had decided she was finished waiting.
Nora had left to find a safe path into the ballroom.
Sophie had fallen asleep against Emily's shoulder.
Emily heard footsteps.
The linen room door opened.
Victoria stood there.
For a moment Emily thought she had never seen anyone more beautiful.
Then she recognized the face from the photograph.
The blonde woman behind her mother.
Victoria looked at Emily.
Then at Sophie.
Then at the backpack.
"What's your name?"
Emily did not answer.
Victoria stepped inside.
"Are you Claire Bennett's daughter?"
Emily's fear became certainty.
"You know my mom."
Victoria closed the door.
"No."
"You're in her picture."
Victoria's face changed.
"Give it to me."
Emily backed away.
"Why?"
"Because it isn't yours."
"My mom gave it to me."
"Your mother stole it."
"You're lying."
Victoria took another step.
Emily lifted Sophie.
"Stay away."
Victoria's voice became cold.
"You have no idea what you are interfering with."
"My mom is missing."
"That isn't my problem."
"She said you would say that."
Victoria stopped.
"What else did Claire tell you?"
Emily saw fear.
Real fear.
And suddenly she understood something.
The photograph mattered.
Her mother had known it would matter.
Emily ran.
Victoria grabbed for the backpack.
One strap tore.
Emily screamed.
Sophie woke and began crying.
Emily kicked the door open and rushed into the corridor.
Victoria followed.
"Stop her."
Emily turned a corner.
Music came from somewhere ahead.
A pair of enormous white doors opened as two staff members moved floral arrangements.
Beyond them was the ballroom.
Beyond the ballroom was the altar.
And standing at the altar was the man from every newspaper photograph her mother had saved.
May you like
Damian Vance.
Emily ran toward him.
