Chapter 3 - Thirty-Seven Seconds of Truth
I stared at the attachment for almost a minute.
Then I pressed play.
The video began with white roses climbing the banister at Seacliff House.
Music drifted from the quartet.
Several guests crossed the foyer.
The camera turned slightly, revealing Sloan and my mother standing near the staircase.
My sister was wearing a fitted ivory rehearsal dress.
My mother leaned toward her, gesturing in the direction of my knee brace.
I turned up the volume.
Sloan's voice was faint but recognizable.
“I'm not having that thing in my pictures.”
My mother answered something the music swallowed.
Sloan looked over her shoulder.
Then she smiled.
“Watch me handle it.”
The camera shifted as Alina moved around a floral arrangement.
I appeared at the top of the staircase, gripping the banister with my left hand.
I remembered that moment.
I'd been moving carefully, taking one step at a time, terrified of twisting my knee.
Sloan approached from behind.
She touched my shoulder.
I turned my head.
Then her hand moved from my shoulder to my upper arm.
For one second, everything looked ordinary.
Until she shoved.
It wasn't an accidental collision.
Her arm straightened.
My body pitched sideways.
My braced leg caught awkwardly against the next step.
I reached for the railing and missed.
Then I fell.
The phone shook as Alina reacted, but the camera kept recording.
There was a terrible crack of impact.
Someone screamed.
And then Sloan laughed.
“Get up, Merritt. It was a joke.”
I stopped the video.
My heart pounded so hard that my hospital gown moved against my chest.
I watched it again.
And again.
On the third viewing, I noticed my mother.
She hadn't looked surprised when Sloan pushed me.
She'd watched the entire thing.
But her expression wasn't proof that she'd known what Sloan intended. I couldn't know that yet.
The clear evidence was worse than enough: my sister had deliberately shoved a woman recovering from major knee surgery.
I saved the original file and the message, then forwarded copies to a secure personal folder.
A minute later, I replied.
Why did you send this to me?
Alina answered almost immediately.
I'm the florist's assistant. I was filming the staircase arrangements for our portfolio. I heard your sister laughing before the ambulance came.
Another message followed.
Your father told the security staff you were unstable and should be removed. I couldn't let that be the only version of what happened.
I stared at her words.
A stranger had shown me more compassion in thirty-seven seconds than my family had shown me in thirty-four years.
A nurse entered to check my circulation and sensation.
“Any feeling back in your foot?”
“Not much.”
She recorded the finding and adjusted my blanket.
When she left, another notification appeared.
This one came from Forge & Harbor's financial monitoring system.
CORPORATE CARD TRANSACTION ALERT
Amount: $42,500.00
Merchant: SEACLIFF HOUSE EVENTS
Cardholder: MERRITT VALE
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what I was reading.
The corporate emergency card was reserved for urgent work expenses.
I had not authorized a payment to Seacliff House.
I had not authorized any wedding expense.
And the card was supposed to be locked inside my work bag.
Then I remembered something from three weeks earlier.
My mother had visited while I was recovering from surgery.
I'd fallen asleep on the couch.
When I woke up, she was standing beside my work bag.
She said she'd been looking for a phone charger.
I looked at the transaction again.
May you like
Forty-two thousand, five hundred dollars.
My family's betrayal had just reached into my workplace.
