Chapter 3 - The Broken Lens
Naomi sat at her editing bay, the harsh blue glow of dual monitors illuminating the cramped basement studio. Before her lay the mangled body of her professional cinema camera. The lens was cracked down the middle like a broken spiderweb, but the internal solid-state drive remained intact within its reinforced aluminum housing. She carefully extracted the drive using a precision screwdriver, sliding it into her master reader. She needed to back up the footage immediately; high-profile wedding contracts carried steep indemnities, and Victoria Sterling was not a woman known for fair settlements.
The directory loaded on the screen, revealing a dozen raw video files from the morning's disastrous events. Naomi clicked on the final file, the one recorded just moments before Victoria smashed the equipment. The audio was pristine, capturing the ambient rustle of silk gowns and the clinking of champagne flutes from the cocktail hour prior to the ceremony.
As the timeline progressed, the camera had accidentally captured a quiet corner of the bridal suite where Victoria believed she was entirely alone. Naomi leaned closer to the monitor, turning up the gain on the audio channel.
On screen, Victoria stood by the vanity mirror, angrily tearing a gold-plated locket from her neck and tossing it onto the marble countertop. Her phone was pressed tightly to her ear.
"I don't care how you do it," Victoria hissed into the phone, her voice dripping with venom. "Just make sure the girl’s medical equipment isn't at the venue. I want her stumbling, I want her humiliated, and I want Julian so distracted he won't notice the accounts clearing until we're already airborne."
Naomi’s breath hitched. She paused the frame, zooming in on the reflection in the vanity mirror. A second person was visible partially concealed behind the heavy velvet drapes—a man wearing a courier uniform, handing Victoria a heavy manila envelope identical to the one Julian kept in his office safe.
Suddenly, the basement lights flickered violently and died, plunging the room into absolute darkness. The only illumination came from the dying battery backup of the computer monitors.
A heavy thud echoed from the top of the basement stairs, followed by the slow, deliberate creak of wooden steps descending into the dark. Naomi grabbed her heavy desk stapler, her heart hammering against her ribs as she backed away from the glowing screens.
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"I know you saved the drive, Naomi," a cold, familiar voice whispered from the foot of the stairs.
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