“No,” I replied loudly. Several guests at the head table turned toward us. “I need to fix my dress. My bridesmaids will help me. You stay and entertain.”
His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching violently in his cheek. But his influential business partners were watching him. He released me, giving me a look that promised absolute hell.
I turned and calmly walked toward the double doors, with Harper joining me the moment I reached the hallway. As soon as we rounded the corner, we broke into a sprint.
“You’re bleeding heavily,” Harper gasped as we practically collapsed into the bridal suite, slamming the heavy mahogany door behind us and locking the deadbolt.
“I don’t care about the blood. Get the laptop!” I ordered, rushing toward the sink.
Harper tossed her purse onto the vanity and pulled out her MacBook. For six weeks, she had been helping me organize the digital evidence. But the most horrifying discovery had surfaced only two days earlier.
It wasn’t just Derek.
As I ran cold water over my stinging face, washing away the sugar and blood, I stared at the digital dossier on Harper’s screen. There were hundreds of emails dating back two full years.
