So I prepared.
Not enough to cancel the wedding—not yet. Derek knew where I lived, knew my schedule and family, and was charming enough to convince people I was unstable.
But I had prepared enough to protect myself if something happened.
I wiped frosting from my eyes.
Derek raised his champagne glass.
“To my beautiful wife,” he announced.
Scattered laughter returned.
Patricia lifted hers. “She’ll learn how to take a joke eventually.”
I scanned the ballroom.
Near the service entrance stood Lena.
She wasn’t crying now.
She was watching me.
Waiting.
I gave her the smallest nod.
Derek pulled me against his chest.
“There she is,” he murmured. “Good girl.”
I smiled.
Not because he had won.
Because beneath a tiny pearl button sewn into the neckline of my dress was a miniature audio recorder.
And inside Lena’s purse was a sealed envelope containing photographs, medical records, bank statements, and a signed document Derek had barely bothered to read.
