Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO COVERED HER.
Ethan did not answer his mother in the ballroom.
That became his answer.
Not legally.
Not completely.
But emotionally, everybody standing close enough understood.
Marianne held Amber’s wrap closed while the wedding coordinator hurried over and asked whether the bride wanted to be escorted to the bridal suite.
Amber slapped the woman’s hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The coordinator stopped immediately.
Amber was still bright red.
Her hair was perfect.
Her makeup was nearly perfect.
Everything from the shoulders up still looked like a luxury wedding advertisement.
Everything below that had fallen apart.
“Everybody needs to stop staring,” she snapped.
Nobody knew where else to look.
Marianne stepped back.
“You should go change.”
Amber stared at her.
“You’d like that.”
Marianne’s eyebrows lifted.
“I just gave you my wrap.”
“You think that makes you better than me?”
“No.”
Marianne looked tired now.
“It makes me cold.”
A strange sound escaped one of the tables.
Not laughter exactly.
Someone trying not to laugh.
Amber heard it.
Her eyes flashed.
Richard turned toward the guests.
“Dinner will be delayed fifteen minutes.”
He said it like a hotel owner, not a father.
The room responded because rooms like that always responded to the person who sounded most certain.
Servers moved.
The MC stepped away.
Music resumed quietly.
Richard looked toward the wedding coordinator.
“Take Mrs. Mercer upstairs.”
Amber snapped, “I am Mrs. Mercer.”
Richard’s eyes met hers.
“So is my wife.”
That landed harder than he intended.
Amber looked at Marianne.
For months she had spoken about becoming Mrs. Mercer as though the name were a promotion.
Marianne had carried it for thirty-eight years and still bought store-brand cereal.
The contrast had irritated Amber in a way Marianne had never completely understood.
Now it seemed almost absurd.
Ethan finally reached for Amber.
“Come on.”
Amber pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Amber.”
“Did you know?”
His face tightened.
“This isn’t the place.”
Amber laughed in disbelief.
“That’s what you’re going with?”
Marianne heard the irony.
So did Richard.
Ethan kept his voice low.
“We need to get you upstairs.”
Amber looked at him like he had become a stranger.
“You stood there.”
Ethan’s eyes flickered toward his mother.
“Amber.”
“You stood there while your father did that.”
Richard interrupted.
“I moved two cards.”
Amber spun toward him.
“You destroyed my wedding dress.”
“No.”
Richard pointed toward the chair.
“You did.”
The ballroom noise seemed far away.
Amber looked around as if searching for somebody who would agree that Richard was being unreasonable.
A bridesmaid named Tessa approached cautiously.
“Amber, come upstairs.”
Amber let her.
Ethan followed.
Before leaving, Amber looked back at Marianne.
There was rage in her face.
Not guilt.
Not yet.
Rage.
“You were never supposed to know.”
Marianne went still.
Amber seemed to realize what she had said.
Too late.
Tessa moved her toward the hallway.
Ethan followed.
Richard stayed beside Marianne.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Richard said, “You okay?”
Marianne looked at him.
“You smiled.”
Richard frowned.
“At what?”
“When her dress ripped.”
He looked away.
“You smiled.”
“She tried to do it to you.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Richard picked up his champagne glass.
The liquid inside had gone flat.
“I wanted her to feel it.”
Marianne nodded slowly.
“That’s what I thought.”
“You’re defending her?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Marianne looked around the ballroom.
Servers were quietly replacing bread plates.
Guests were pretending not to whisper.
The velvet chair still held the torn panel of Amber’s gown.
“I’m trying to figure out which part of tonight is supposed to make me feel good.”
Richard stared at her.
“She got exactly what she planned for you.”
Marianne’s expression hardened.
“No. She got what you planned for her after you saw what she planned for me.”
Richard did not answer.
“You could have stopped it.”
“I did stop it.”
“You could have taken the glue off the chair.”
His jaw tightened.
“You could have moved my chair.”
“I did.”
“You could have told Ethan.”
Richard looked toward the hallway where their son had disappeared.
“I thought he already knew.”
That sentence changed Marianne’s face.
“What?”
Richard realized he had said too much.
She stepped closer.
“Why would you think Ethan knew?”
Richard stared at the ballroom floor.
“Because she looked at him.”
“People look at each other.”
“She showed him the bottle.”
Marianne’s throat tightened.
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“And what did Ethan do?”
Richard took too long.
Marianne closed her eyes.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing I could see.”
The humiliation changed again.
Amber had wanted Marianne laughed at.
Richard had wanted Amber taught a lesson.
But Ethan—
Ethan had been her son for thirty-four years.
He had called her when he got his first apartment because he didn’t know how much detergent to use.
He had once driven six hours through snow because she was having outpatient surgery and Richard was stuck at a conference.
He had cried at his grandmother’s funeral with his head on Marianne’s shoulder like he was still ten.
And now she was standing inside his wedding reception asking whether he had watched his new wife put glue on her chair.
Marianne sat.
Not on the sabotaged chair.
On another.
Richard crouched slightly beside her.
“I don’t know what he understood.”
“Stop.”
“I’m saying—”
“I know what you’re saying.”
She stared at the table.
“You’re trying to leave room for him.”
Richard didn’t deny it.
Marianne looked at him.
“Would you leave that much room for Amber?”
“No.”
“Then don’t do it for our son because he has your last name.”
That sentence landed.
Richard stood.
Marianne had known him when he owned nothing.
Before the hotels.
Before assistants.
Before drivers.
Before people laughed too quickly at his jokes.
She knew exactly how wealth had changed him.
Not by making him cruel.
By making his certainty expensive for everyone else.
“You want justice?” Marianne asked.
Richard looked at her.
“Start with not giving Ethan a discount.”
Upstairs, Amber was tearing through the bridal suite.
Not literally.
She had already had enough fabric damage for one evening.
She paced while Tessa tried to pin the torn gown enough to make it wearable.
Ethan stood by the door.
“Say something,” Amber demanded.
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
He laughed once.
That was apparently the wrong response.
Amber’s face changed.
“You knew your father was standing there.”
“No.”
“You saw him.”
“After.”
“You knew something.”
“Amber, I saw you crouched by a chair.”
“You saw the glue.”
Ethan did not answer.
Tessa stopped working.
Amber looked at her through the mirror.
“Leave.”
Tessa hesitated.
“Amber—”
“Leave.”
She did.
The door closed.
Amber turned toward Ethan.
“You were supposed to laugh.”
He looked horrified.
She immediately corrected herself.
“I mean—you knew it was a joke.”
“Super glue?”
“She wasn’t going to get hurt.”
“That is not the point.”
Amber stared.
“Interesting time to discover principles.”
Ethan looked away.
That hurt because it was accurate.
Amber stepped closer.
“You have spent a year complaining about your mother.”
“I complain about everyone.”
“You said she embarrasses you.”
“I said she can be stubborn.”
“You said she dresses like she’s going to a church basement.”
Ethan’s face changed.
“I was joking.”
“So was I.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, Amber.”
He finally looked at her.
“This wasn’t a joke.”
She stared at him.
“Because it happened to me?”
“Because you put glue on a chair.”
“For her.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow that makes it worse.”
“Yes.”
Amber’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Ethan looked almost shocked by his own answer.
Downstairs, the wedding coordinator approached Richard.
Her name was Natalie Price.
She had handled Mercer family events for nine years.
She looked uncomfortable.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“What?”
“We need to secure the chair.”
Richard frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Amber is accusing you of intentionally damaging her dress.”
“I swapped the cards.”
“I know.”
“She applied the glue.”
“I know what I saw.”
Richard looked at her.
“You saw it?”
Natalie hesitated.
“Not directly.”
“Then what do you mean?”
She glanced toward the small black domes mounted high in the ballroom corners.
Richard followed her gaze.
“This is a hotel,” she said.
“We have cameras.”
Marianne looked up.
Natalie continued.
“The seating area is covered.”
Richard’s expression became serious.
“Audio?”
“Security cameras, no.”
A pause.
“But the wedding videographer had already started recording room ambience.”
Marianne felt something tighten in her stomach.
Natalie lowered her voice.
“The microphone near the head table was live.”
Richard looked toward the hallway.
Amber’s whisper had seemed private.
Maybe it wasn’t.
Natalie swallowed.
“And Mr. Mercer?”
Richard looked at her.
“There’s something you need to know before anybody watches it.”
“What?”
Natalie glanced toward Marianne.
Then toward the hallway where Ethan had disappeared.
“The camera angle doesn’t just show Amber.”
May you like
She paused.
“It shows Ethan watching her.”
