Chapter 3: The Footage Nobody Was Supposed to See
At 3:47 a.m., I was sitting in the hotel's security office watching my maid of honour steal my wedding rings.
The footage was black and white.
The timestamp showed Thursday, 4:38 p.m.
Vanessa entered the corridor wearing a cream coat and carrying her familiar brown handbag. She looked directly at the security camera, smiled, and continued toward the reception desk.
The duty manager, Mr. Harris, stood beside me.
"Would you like me to pause it?""
"No," I said.
"Keep going.""
On screen, Vanessa handed the receptionist a piece of paper.
The receptionist checked something on the computer, disappeared into the back office, and returned with a small envelope.
Vanessa opened it.
She removed the velvet ring box, checked its contents, and placed it inside her handbag.
Then she signed the collection register.
She didn't look nervous.
She didn't look guilty.
She looked pleased.
"Can you enlarge the document?"" I asked.
Mr. Harris adjusted the footage.
The signature was difficult to read, but I recognized the handwriting.
It was Vanessa's.
"She used a false authorization," I said.
Mr. Harris nodded.
"We've preserved the original form and the relevant footage. We haven't confronted her.""
"Good.""
Daniel stood behind my chair.
"Can we report this?""
"Yes," Mr. Harris replied.
"But I recommend we first secure the property and document everything. We can also prevent further access to the rooms.""
I turned toward him.
"Can you move the rings?""
"We don't have them.""
"Can you stop her from leaving with anything else?""
"Absolutely.""
I thanked him and asked for copies of the security footage and authorization form.
As we walked back toward the lift, Daniel took my hand.
"Emma.""
I looked at him.
"There's something I need to tell you before we go any further.""
"What?""
He took a breath.
"Last week, Vanessa asked me to meet her at a coffee shop.""
I stopped walking.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't meet her.""
He unlocked his phone.
"She sent me this afterward.""
He showed me a photograph.
It was a picture of two coffee cups on a table.
Underneath was a message.
I wish you had come. I think you would have understood everything if you'd just given me twenty minutes.
Then another message followed.
You can't spend your whole life choosing someone because you feel responsible for them.
I stared at the screen.
Daniel put his phone away.
"I thought she was trying to make me question the wedding. I decided to ignore her.""
"Did she contact you again?""
"Yes.""
"When?""
"Yesterday morning.""
He showed me the final message.
Tomorrow is going to change everything.
I felt the words settle heavily between us.
Tomorrow.
The wedding.
The dress.
The rings.
The woman who'd volunteered to stand beside me.
I wasn't sure which part frightened me more.
We returned to the new bridal suite at 4:15 a.m.
Sophie had already moved the dress.
It hung safely inside the wardrobe, with the garment bag zipped and secured. She had also placed my shoes, veil, jewellery, and vow cards inside a locked suitcase.
"Everything's here," she said.
Then she noticed my expression.
"What happened?""
I explained the security footage.
Sophie sat down.
"She's actually stolen the rings?""
"Yes.""
"Emma, I'm going to kill her.""
"Get in line.""
For the first time that night, Sophie laughed.
It was brief, tired, and almost inappropriate.
But I needed it.
At 4:32, Claire arrived.
She was still wearing her hotel slippers and had clearly dressed in a hurry.
"I've been trying to reach Vanessa," she said.
"She's not answering.""
"Don't contact her again.""
Claire placed her tablet on the table.
"I checked the supplier messages. There's something else.""
She opened a conversation between Vanessa and the florist.
Vanessa had requested that the bridal bouquet be delivered to Room 814 at 9:00 a.m., rather than directly to the ceremony venue.
"Why would she do that?"" Sophie asked.
Claire scrolled.
"She said Emma wanted private photographs before leaving the hotel.""
I looked at the message.
"That's not true.""
"I know," Claire replied.
"I didn't approve it.""
She opened another conversation.
This one was with the hotel laundry department.
Vanessa had asked whether they could provide a white towel and cleaning supplies early in the morning.
I stared at her.
"Cleaning supplies?""
"She said someone had spilled makeup in the bridal suite.""
Nobody spoke.
Then Sophie said, "The wine.""
I nodded.
Vanessa had arranged access to my room, requested the bouquet, and obtained cleaning supplies.
She'd planned every detail.
And she wasn't finished.
I opened the hotel room access report.
My key card had been used at 11:42 p.m.
The report showed another attempted entry at 1:06 a.m.
I hadn't been near the door at either time.
"Who has access to my room?"" I asked.
Mr. Harris, who had accompanied Claire upstairs, checked his tablet.
"You, the housekeeping supervisor, and two authorized staff members. We can review the access logs.""
"Was Vanessa given a key?""
He hesitated.
"She was issued a temporary guest-access card yesterday.""
"Who authorized it?""
He looked at the screen.
"Your name.""
I closed my eyes.
Another forged authorization.
"Deactivate it," I said.
"Immediately.""
Mr. Harris tapped his tablet.
"Done.""
Then he looked up.
"Ms. Emma, there's one more thing.""
I was beginning to hate those words.
"What?""
He turned his tablet toward me.
"At 1:06 a.m., the person using the temporary card attempted to enter your original suite. The door was locked from inside.""
I looked at the timestamp.
That was the exact time I'd been sitting on my bed, listening to Vanessa talk about destroying my dress.
"Do you have the corridor footage?""
"Yes.""
He played it.
The corridor was empty for several seconds.
Then a figure appeared.
A woman in a dark coat.
She walked toward my room, stopped outside the door, and took something from her handbag.
She swiped the card.
The lock flashed red.
She tried again.
Red.
Then she leaned toward the door.
Her face turned slightly toward the camera.
It was Vanessa.
She looked directly at the handle.
Then she took out her phone and sent a message.
My phone buzzed.
I looked down.
The message was from Vanessa.
*Hey, sweetheart. Just checking you're okay. Couldn't sleep thinking about tomorrow.
Let me know if you need anything. Love you.*
I read it twice.
Then I looked back at the footage.
Vanessa had been standing outside my room while I was listening to her plan to ruin my wedding.
She'd tried to enter.
And when she couldn't, she'd gone back to her room and pretended to be the friend who cared.
Sophie read the message over my shoulder.
"Don't answer.""
"I wasn't going to.""
Daniel took my phone gently.
"Emma, we have enough. We should tell the police and let them handle this.""
I nodded.
But something about the footage was bothering me.
"Can you go back ten seconds?"" I asked Mr. Harris.
He rewound it.
"Before she tries the card.""
The image moved backward.
Vanessa approached the room, stopped, and looked over her shoulder.
Then she reached into her handbag.
She didn't take out the key card first.
She took out a small folded piece of paper.
She looked at it.
Put it away.
Then she tried the door.
"What is that?"" I whispered.
Mr. Harris zoomed in.
The picture wasn't perfectly clear, but it was enough to identify the object.
A printed photograph.
A photograph of my wedding dress.
Sophie leaned closer.
"Why would she have a picture of your dress?""
I didn't answer.
Because I was thinking about something Vanessa had said through the wall.
Wine on the dress. Lose the rings. Whatever.
But there was another sentence I'd nearly forgotten.
She'd said she'd handle the dress herself.
Not that she'd ask someone to do it.
Not that she'd arrange for someone to spill wine.
She intended to touch it.
And the photograph suggested she'd already been planning how.
I looked at the clock.
5:02 a.m.
In eight hours, my wedding was supposed to begin.
I turned to Claire.
"Can you arrange for the dress to be transferred directly to the ceremony venue under security escort?""
"Yes.""
"Can you make sure Vanessa's name is removed from every supplier authorization?""
"Absolutely.""
Then I looked at Daniel.
"There's one more thing I want.""
"Anything.""
"I want her to believe tomorrow is still happening exactly as planned.""
He studied my face.
"Why?""
I looked at the photograph on the screen.
"Because she thinks she's the only person who knows what she's doing.""
My phone buzzed again.
A new message.
This time, Vanessa had sent a photograph.
It showed four champagne glasses arranged on a hotel bedside table.
Underneath, she'd written:
Can't wait to stand beside you tomorrow. We've got a surprise planned for you, bride-to-be.
I enlarged the photograph.
Behind the glasses, reflected faintly in the mirror, was a small white envelope.
May you like
And written across its front were two words.
*DANIEL'S SECRET.*
