Chương 3
Ethan’s head turned sharply. “It’s already that specific?”
Priya looked at him. “Someone captioned the video.”
Lena held out her hand.
Priya hesitated, then gave her the phone.
The first clip had been posted thirty-eight seconds earlier. It began after the wig was already off, with Vivian holding it aloft and Lena reaching for her head. The caption read: MERCER WEDDING EXPLODES AS BRIDE’S SECRET REVEALED.
There were comments beneath it.
Some called Vivian monstrous. Some asked what the secret was. Someone wrote that the bride had probably lied about being able to have children. Another person asked whether Ethan knew. A reply claimed he did not, despite the fact that the video included his words.
Lena locked the screen.
Her reflection appeared in the black glass: bare scalp, pale face, ivory lace at the throat, Ethan’s coat around her shoulders.
She handed the phone back.
“We have to dismiss the guests,” she said.
Ethan sat on the edge of a second chair. “We can still get married.”
Priya looked away.
Lena studied him. He was trying not to ask. That restraint made the question more painful.
“Today?” she said.
“Only if you want.”
“You want to?”
“Yes.”
“After that?”
“Especially after that.”
She felt something in her chest pull tight. Love, anger, gratitude, resentment. They arrived together and refused to sort themselves.
“If we go back out there,” she said, “everyone will call it brave.”
“I don’t care what they call it.”
“I do.”
He flinched.
“I don’t want my wedding to become proof that I survived your mother,” Lena said. “I don’t want to say vows while people are thinking about my scalp.”
“They’ll be thinking about her.”
“That isn’t better.”
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Then we don’t go back.”
“You have three hundred people out there.”
“They can go home.”
“Your mother spent—”
“My mother’s spending is not your debt.”
The sentence landed hard enough that Priya looked at him again.
Lena pressed her thumb against the rim of the plastic cup until it bent. “You should have told me she was asking questions.”
“Yes.”
“You should have told me she heard the call.”
“Yes.”
“You let me walk into a room with someone who was looking for a way to expose me.”
“I didn’t know she would do this.”
“No. You thought you could control her.”
Ethan’s face went still.
That had always been his error with Vivian. He called it managing. He returned her calls at predetermined times, gave her limited information, allowed her small victories so she would not pursue larger ones. He had explained the system to Lena during their first Christmas together, when Vivian sent a car for them without asking and then sounded wounded when they drove themselves.
You don’t confront every move, he had said. You decide which ones matter.
Lena had believed that was wisdom. Now she wondered how much of it was fear with good posture.
Reverend Bell knocked again.
“Please,” he said. “There is a woman in the second row who says she’s having chest pain.”
Priya unlocked the door.
The minister stood in the hall, his face pale above his collar. Behind him, an usher hurried toward the nave. The normal emergency steadied everyone. Someone called 911. Daniel cleared the center aisle. A retired nurse from Ethan’s side of the family knelt beside the woman, who insisted she was fine and then admitted she could not feel two fingers on her left hand.
For ten minutes, the wedding ceased to be the largest crisis in the building.
Lena remained in the sacristy while paramedics entered through the side door. She listened to the clipped questions, the rolling wheels of the stretcher, the woman’s embarrassed insistence that she had probably eaten too much smoked salmon.
When the ambulance left, the cathedral had changed. People had begun standing. Conversations broke out in clusters. The ceremonial stillness was gone. Guests retrieved coats, checked rides, and looked toward the locked sacristy door.
Daniel entered after Priya allowed him in. His bow tie had been pulled crooked, and a lock of gray-streaked hair had fallen over his forehead.
“The woman’s stable,” he said. “They think it may have been a panic attack, but they’re taking her in.”
Lena nodded.
Daniel glanced at the wig in Ethan’s hands and quickly away. “The buses are still available. We can redirect everyone to the hotel or send them back.”
“Send them home,” Ethan said.
“The hotel has already prepared dinner for three hundred.”
“Donate it.”
“To whom, in the next hour?”
“I don’t care, Daniel.”
“That is the problem. Someone has to.”
Lena almost laughed. The Mercer family could turn a public assault into a catering issue in under fifteen minutes.
Daniel heard the sound and looked at her. His expression softened, though softening seemed to require concentration.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Did you know your mother was looking into my health?”
He did not answer quickly enough.
Ethan stood. “Daniel.”
“I knew she was worried.”
“Worried about what?” Lena asked.
“She thought Ethan was making major decisions without understanding the situation.”
“The situation is standing in front of you.”
Daniel’s cheeks reddened. “That came out wrong.”
“No, it came out accurately.”
He rubbed the side of his thumb, a habit Lena had noticed during family dinners whenever Vivian criticized one of his business decisions.
“She asked whether Ethan had considered the practical implications,” he said.
“What implications?”
Daniel glanced toward his brother.
Lena waited.
“Children,” he said. “Medical expenses. Care responsibilities.”
Ethan moved between them. “Get out.”
Daniel’s shoulders dropped. “I said I was sorry.”
“You’re still answering like she held a quarterly review.”
“I’m trying to be honest.”
“Then honestly leave.”
Daniel looked at Lena once more. “There will be press outside.”
“Why?”
“One of the clips has several hundred thousand views.”
May you like
It had been less than twenty minutes.
Lena looked toward the small stained-glass window above the sink. Its leaded design showed a white dove descending through yellow rays. Dust floated in the light.
