Chapter 2
The immediate shock in the reception hall gave way to an electric murmur among the scattered wedding guests. Julian quickly recovered his composure, running a hand through his short brown hair and forcing a tight, incredulous laugh that sounded entirely hollow in the expansive room. He gestured broadly with the sleek black smartphone, addressing the small crowd of remaining family members as if Clara had lost her mind.
“Framed?” Julian repeated, pitching his voice to sound reasonable, wounded, and deeply concerned. “Clara, let’s not make this worse than it already is. I saw her hand go near my jacket. The bride’s custom sapphire-encrusted wedding band and digital ledger are missing from the bridal suite, and my phone was tracking the room’s Bluetooth ping. The device was right here in your daughter’s possession. Everyone saw me pull it out.”
Clara did not flinch. She kept her arm securely around Lily, feeling the small girl’s rapid heartbeat against her ribs. She knelt down slightly, wiping a stray tear from Lily’s cheek with her thumb.
“You’re safe, sweetie. Mommy’s got you,” Clara whispered softly, her tone steady and reassuring. She then stood up, her eyes never leaving Julian’s face. She knew how meticulous Julian was about his finances, his status, and his standing within the extended Vance family. He was a younger cousin by marriage, ambitious to a fault, and desperate for a stake in the family’s real estate holdings. Planting a stolen item on a six-year-old child was a desperate gamble, but Julian was a desperate man drowning in gambling debts he had managed to hide until now.
“You staged this whole thing, Julian,” Clara said clearly, her voice cutting through his defensive monologue. “You needed a distraction. You needed someone to take the fall so the hotel security would look the other way while you quietly managed whatever transaction you’re running on that phone.”
Julian scoffed, stepping forward, but he was careful not to come within arm’s reach. “You’re delusional, Clara. Grief makes people say crazy things after losing a husband, but projecting criminal behavior onto a child to cover for her is sick.”
The mention of her late husband sent a sharp pang through Clara’s chest, but she locked the emotion away. She pointed directly upward toward the corner of the ballroom where the security camera sat mounted on the walnut-paneled wall.
“The camera,” Clara said, her voice ringing with quiet authority. “It records in high definition, sixty frames per second, with a direct audio feed to the hotel’s main security server on the basement level. It has been running continuously since the rehearsal dinner yesterday.”
Julian’s smirk vanished entirely. The nervous sweat on his forehead glistened under the chandelier light. He looked up at the blinking red light, his mind racing to calculate the angles. He had disabled the corridor cameras upstairs, but he had completely forgotten about the wide-angle architectural lens installed during the hall’s recent historical renovation.
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“The footage requires a formal subpoena or hotel management authorization to access,” Julian retorted quickly, his voice tightening. “And the manager left for the night. Good luck getting anyone to open that archive before Monday morning.”
Clara smiled faintly—a cold, humorless expression. “You assume I need their permission. My brother is lead counsel for the hospitality group that owns this property. I’ve already sent the digital authorization key to his terminal.”
