at most.

Find the document she signed at the notary.

Without it, the whole plan falls apart.

I understood then that the notary visit had never been routine.

Nolan was not trying to solve a temporary business problem.

He was trying to get control of something through me, and he needed the signed packet before I understood what I had done.

Drawers opened.

My suitcase was unzipped.

Hangers scraped in the closet.

Sophie moved through the room with the confidence of someone who knew exactly where my things usually were.

It was the kind of detail that hurts later.

She had not betrayed me in a single moment.

She had been studying me for months.

Then Vivian said something else that made the skin on my arms prickle.

—And if she checks the second envelope in her bag, everything blows up.

Rachel.

In that instant, I remembered the cream envelope.

I also remembered something else: my seamstress had sewn a hidden pocket into my dress because I joked I needed somewhere to keep my vows and lipstick.

My phone was still tucked against my hip.

Very slowly, I slid it out and put it on silent.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely see the screen.

I hit record first.

Then I texted my older brother Ben, who was staying two floors below us, and my father’s longtime attorney, Marta, who had attended the wedding.

Under bed.

Suite 1812.

Nolan drugged the champagne.

He and Sophie are searching for papers.

Call police now.

I sent another message to Ben alone: Do not call me.

Come with security.

Then, while Nolan and Sophie turned toward the closet, I reached for my handbag.

It had slipped off the chair during their search and was close enough that I could catch the strap with two fingers.

I dragged it toward me a fraction at a time, every tiny scrape sounding deafening to me, though apparently not to them.

Inside was Rachel’s cream envelope.

I opened it under the bed.

The first page was a certified marriage record.

Nolan Reed and Sophie Mercer.

Married seven months earlier in Clark County.

For a few seconds, my mind could not process the words.

I kept reading them as if the page might rearrange itself into something less monstrous.

It did not.

The man I had just stood beside at an altar was already married.

My maid of honor was not just sleeping with him.

She was his wife.

Behind the certificate were printed screenshots of text messages.

Sophie had written, She trusts me completely.

After the ceremony, she’ll sign anything.

Vivian’s reply came a minute later: Get the property packet tonight.

Once it’s filed, the house is locked.

Another message from Nolan said, She still thinks the debt is temporary.

There was a handwritten note clipped to the stack.

Do not drink anything he gives you.

Do not confront them alone.

They are after the house and the debt transfer.

I am outside with someone you can trust.

—Rachel

I had barely finished reading when I heard Nolan suck in a breath.

—Found it, he said.

My stomach dropped.

Through the gap, I saw the blue folder in his hand.

He must have pulled it from the side pocket of my carry-on.

—Good, Sophie