Chapter 3: The Empty Chair
Malcolm didn't blink.
“She found us?””
Tasha slipped her phone into her clutch.
“Forget I said that.””
“No.””
“Malcolm—”
“Who found us?””
Tasha looked around the ballroom.
The wedding band was still playing softly near the dance floor, but the music felt wrong now. Too cheerful. Too polished.
Guests laughed at tables, unaware that the groom and bride were standing beneath the chandeliers like strangers.
Malcolm stepped closer.
“You're going to tell me what's happening.””
Tasha shook her head.
“Not here.””
“You already said that.””
“Because there are people listening.””
“Let them listen.””
Her eyes widened.
“Keep your voice down.””
Malcolm stared at her.
“You told me to trust you.””
“I do.””
“Then start acting like it.””
Tasha opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
A waiter passed behind them carrying a tray of empty glasses.
Malcolm waited until he was gone.
“Who is Nia Johnson?””
Tasha's face tightened.
“I told you. She's a waitress.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“She works here.””
“Why does she have the same scar as my sister?””
Tasha went still.
Malcolm saw it.
That tiny reaction.
The hesitation.
The breath she couldn't hide.
“You knew.””
Tasha whispered, “Don't say her name.””
Malcolm's heart slammed against his ribs.
“My sister?””
Tasha looked down.
“Please.””
“My sister has been missing for twelve years.””
“I know.””
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Malcolm stared at her.
“You know?””
Tasha covered her mouth.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Malcolm grabbed the back of a chair to steady himself.
“What does Nia have to do with my sister?””
Tasha shook her head.
“I can't tell you.””
“You can't?””
“I won't.””
“That's different.””
Tasha's eyes filled with tears.
“Malcolm, if I tell you everything right now, this wedding won't be the only thing that falls apart.””
“You already ruined it.””
“No.””
She looked toward the empty doorway.
“Not yet.””
Malcolm followed her gaze.
Nothing.
Just the hallway outside the ballroom.
“Nia?””
Tasha didn't answer.
He walked toward the doors.
She caught his sleeve.
“Don't go after her.””
“Why?””
“Because you don't know what she's doing.””
“She was terrified.””
“Maybe that's an act.””
Malcolm pulled his arm free.
“You expect me to believe that?””
“I expect you to believe me.””
“I don't anymore.””
Tasha flinched.
He walked into the hallway.
The ballroom doors swung shut behind him.
He found no Nia.
Only an overturned service cart near the wall.
One white napkin lay on the floor.
Malcolm picked it up.
There was a faint smear of blood on one corner.
His breathing stopped.
“Nia?””
No answer.
He hurried back into the ballroom.
“Tasha.””
She turned.
“What?””
“Where's the service manager?””
“Why?””
“Now.””
A few minutes later, the manager appeared.
He was visibly nervous.
Malcolm held up the napkin.
“Where did the waitress go?””
The manager looked at Tasha.
Then quickly looked away.
“I don't know.””
Malcolm stepped closer.
“You don't know?””
“She left through the service corridor.””
“Alone?””
The manager hesitated.
“Yes.””
Tasha said, “That's enough.””
Malcolm turned toward her.
“No, it isn't.””
His voice was quiet now.
That frightened her more than shouting would have.
“You knew she was coming.””
Tasha shook her head.
“No.””
“You knew the necklace.””
“No.””
“You knew about my sister.””
Tasha's eyes closed.
“Please stop.””
“Why?””
“Because someone is watching us.””
Malcolm looked around.
Every guest suddenly seemed suspicious.
Then he noticed something.
At one of the banquet tables near the far wall, a single chair had been left empty.
On the seat was a folded white envelope.
His name was written across it.
*MALCOLM.*
He walked toward it.
Tasha's voice cracked behind him.
“Don't open that.””
Malcolm stopped.
He slowly turned.
“How do you know what's inside?””
Tasha didn't answer.
He picked up the envelope.
His fingers tore through the seal.
Inside was one photograph.
Malcolm pulled it out.
His entire body went cold.
The photograph showed a little Black girl wearing a silver charm necklace.
Beside her stood a woman Malcolm had never seen before.
On the back, someone had written:
*ASK YOUR BRIDE WHY SHE WAS THERE THAT NIGHT.*
Malcolm looked up.
Tasha was crying now.
And before he could say a word, her phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID wasn't *Unknown*.
May you like
It displayed one name.
*NIA.*
