Chapter 3: The Recording From Yesterday
The first thing I noticed was that Simone wasn't alone in the recording for long.
She entered the empty ballroom at 2:17 p.m., carrying her cream-colored purse. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting clean reflections across the marble floor. The white roses were already arranged, and my mother's reserved seat sat near the front, marked with a small gold name card.
Simone approached the chair.
She looked toward the entrance.
Then she checked her phone.
I stood inches from the monitor, unable to look away.
“What is she doing?”” Danielle whispered.
Nobody answered.
On-screen, Simone pulled the chair away from the table and placed her purse on the seat. She opened it, removed something small, and examined it in her palm.
Marcus paused the footage.
The object was too small to identify.
“Zoom in,” I said.
He adjusted the image.
Simone's hand filled the screen. Between her fingers was a folded piece of paper.
She glanced toward the entrance again.
Then she slipped the paper beneath the seat cushion.
My mother covered her mouth.
I turned to Simone.
“What did you put there?””
She didn't answer.
“Simone.””
“It's a piece of paper, Andre.””
“What paper?””
“Probably a seating note.””
“You came into an empty ballroom yesterday, checked whether anyone was watching, and hid something under my mother's chair.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Do you hear yourself? You're interrogating me at our wedding because of an old ring!””
“No,” I said.
“I'm asking why you targeted my mother.””
Patricia moved beside her daughter.
“Perhaps this has gone far enough.””
I looked at her.
“Then tell us what was on the paper.””
Patricia's mouth tightened.
“I don't know.””
“Neither do I. That's why we're watching.””
Marcus resumed the recording.
Simone remained beside the chair for another twenty seconds. She pressed the cushion down with her palm, making sure the paper was hidden. Then she pulled the chair back into place.
Before leaving, she stood in front of my mother's name card.
She smiled.
Not the bright smile she wore for photographs.
A small, private smile.
The kind a person wears when a plan is going exactly as expected.
Then she walked out.
The ballroom fell silent.
I heard the air-conditioning hum above us. A champagne flute clinked somewhere near the windows. My mother's breathing was shallow and uneven.
“Marcus,” I said, “save that recording, too.””
“Already doing it, sir.””
Simone stepped toward the monitor.
“That's enough.””
I moved in front of her.
“Stay there.””
She stared at me as if I'd struck her.
“You don't get to speak to me like I'm some criminal.””
“Then stop giving me reasons to ask questions.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
For one brief moment, I saw the woman I'd fallen in love with. The woman who had sat beside me in an emergency room when I tore a ligament. The woman who had held my hand after I told her how much I missed my father.
Then she wiped her cheek with the back of her hand and looked at the guests.
“Everyone needs to understand something,” she announced.
“Andre has been under tremendous pressure. He barely sleeps. He's been handling his mother's finances, his business, and this wedding. He's not thinking clearly.””
I frowned.
“My mother's finances?””
Simone's lips parted.
Patricia grabbed her daughter's wrist.
“Simone.””
But the damage was done.
I looked at my mother.
“What finances?””
Loretta stared at the floor.
“Baby, it's nothing.””
“Mom.””
She pressed her trembling hands together.
“It's something I meant to tell you later.””
My chest tightened.
“Tell me now.””
She looked toward the security monitor, where the frozen image of Simone standing over her reserved chair remained visible.
“Your father left me a small investment account,” she said.
“Nothing extravagant. Just enough to keep me comfortable.””
I knew about the account. My father had built it over decades, investing small amounts whenever he could. After he died, Mom never touched it except for emergencies.
“What about it?”” I asked.
Loretta swallowed.
“Simone offered to help me organize the paperwork last month. She said the bank had changed some requirements.””
I turned toward my bride.
“You handled my mother's financial paperwork?””
Simone folded her arms.
“She asked me to help.””
“Did she?””
My mother nodded slowly.
“She said it would make things easier for you. I didn't want to bother you while you were planning the wedding.””
Simone's face had gone pale.
I looked back at Loretta.
“Did you sign anything?””
“I signed a few forms.””
“What forms?””
“I thought they were authorization papers.””
The words seemed to drain the air from the room.
Marcus quietly stepped away from the monitor, giving us space while keeping the recording saved.
I could barely hear my own voice.
“Mom, what did the papers authorize?””
Loretta shook her head.
“I don't know, baby. Simone said it was routine.””
I faced the woman I was supposed to marry in less than twenty minutes.
“Tell me you didn't use my mother's signature for something she didn't understand.””
Simone lifted her chin.
“This is ridiculous.””
“Answer me.””
“You're twisting everything.””
“Then explain it.””
She looked at Patricia.
Her mother looked away.
That was the moment the last piece of my trust disappeared.
I reached for my phone.
“I'm calling the bank.””
Simone lunged forward.
“Don't!””
Her shout echoed through the ballroom.
Every guest turned.
I stared at her hand, which had closed around my wrist.
“Let go.””
She released me immediately.
Her voice dropped to a desperate whisper.
“Andre, please. We can talk about this privately.””
“Why privately?””
“Because you don't understand what's at stake.””
“What is at stake?””
Her eyes filled with tears again, but this time she didn't look at the guests. She looked directly at me.
Then she said six words that made my blood run cold.
“If your mother remembers everything, we're finished.””
I stared at her.
“My mother remembers what?””
Simone opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, Marcus's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, answered, and listened for several seconds. His expression changed.
“Sir,” he said, turning toward me, “there's another file attached to yesterday's security report.””
I took a step closer.
“What file?””
Marcus looked at Simone, then at Loretta.
“It's an audio recording from the ballroom microphone.””
He pressed play.
A woman's voice filled the bright, silent room.
Simone's voice.
May you like
And the first words we heard were:
“Once the wedding is over, Andre will never know what his mother signed.””
