Chapter 1: The Spill
The first thing Tasha did after spilling champagne on her own wedding dress was blame the waitress.
“You ruined my wedding!””
Her voice cracked across the elegant ballroom, silencing conversations beneath the crystal chandeliers.
A silver serving tray clattered against the marble floor.
Nia froze.
She stood beside the bride in her black-and-white service uniform, one trembling hand still gripping the edge of the tray. A few drops of champagne glittered on the white fabric near Tasha’s hip.
“I’m sorry,” Nia whispered.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t.”” Tasha lifted one hand.
The room went quiet.
Guests turned in their chairs. Forks stopped halfway to mouths. Someone near the wedding cake lowered a champagne glass without taking a sip.
Tasha looked down at the tiny stain as though it were blood.
“You knew this was my wedding dress,” she said.
Nia swallowed.
“Yes, ma’am.””
“And you still spilled it on me?””
“It was an accident.””
Tasha laughed once, coldly.
“An accident?””
Malcolm stood several feet away beside the head table.
He had been smiling only moments earlier.
Now the smile was gone.
“Tasha,” he said quietly, “it’s just champagne.””
She turned toward him.
“Just champagne?””
“It can be cleaned.””
“You’re defending her?””
Malcolm glanced at Nia.
She had lowered her head.
There was something about the way she stood—shoulders pulled inward, fingers curled tightly against her palms—that made him uncomfortable.
“She apologized,” Malcolm said.
Tasha’s eyes narrowed.
“Then she can apologize outside.””
Nia looked up.
“I can finish serving the tables.””
“No.””
Tasha pointed toward the ballroom doors.
“Get out. You don’t belong here.””
Nia’s lips parted.
For a second, she looked toward the manager standing near the bar.
He immediately looked away.
Nia nodded.
“Yes, ma’am.””
She bent to pick up the fallen napkin.
Her fingers shook so badly that she dropped it twice.
Malcolm noticed.
“Tasha, that's enough.””
“No, Malcolm. I paid for perfection tonight.””
“You paid for a wedding.””
“And I expect everyone here to respect it.””
Nia stood.
She kept her eyes down as she turned toward the exit.
Then Malcolm saw something.
The movement of her hair revealed a small crescent-shaped scar beside her cheek.
He stopped breathing.
It was barely visible.
A thin, pale curve near her left cheekbone.
Malcolm stared.
The ballroom noise seemed to disappear.
He took one step forward.
“Nia?””
She didn't answer.
Malcolm crossed the distance between them.
“Wait.””
Nia stopped.
He gently caught her arm.
She immediately pulled away.
“Please don't touch me.””
Malcolm released her.
His face had gone pale.
“I’m sorry.””
Nia looked at him for the first time.
Their eyes met.
Something inside Malcolm tightened.
Not recognition.
Not exactly.
Something worse.
A memory he couldn't place.
His eyes dropped toward her neck.
A broken silver charm hung from a thin chain beneath her collar.
The charm was small, scratched, and shaped like half a star.
Malcolm stared at it.
His breathing changed.
“Where did you get that?””
Nia instinctively covered the necklace with her hand.
“It's mine.””
“Where did you get it?””
“Malcolm,” Tasha said.
He didn't look at her.
“Please,” Nia whispered.
Malcolm stepped closer.
“That necklace…”
Nia backed away.
“Sir, I need to leave.””
“What's your name?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
She opened her mouth.
Before she could speak, Tasha grabbed Malcolm's arm.
“Don't ask her that.””
Malcolm turned sharply.
For the first time that evening, his expression wasn't confused.
It was suspicious.
“Why?””
May you like
Tasha said nothing.
And the silence between them suddenly felt louder than the wedding music.
