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“I was only trying to save your life!” Elena Morales screamed as she knocked the crystal glass from Julian Vance’s hand in the middle of his million-dollar wedding reception. The glass shattered across the white marble floor, orange juice splashed over Vanessa Vance’s designer gown, and 150 wealthy guests turned toward the catering maid who had just ruined the bride’s perfect evening. But Elena had seen something none of them had seen, and the twelve-second video hidden on her phone was about to make a broken glass the least important thing in that ballroom.
My sister was standing at the altar in a white satin wedding gown when the woman everyone believed was dead walked through the ballroom doors. It was the kind of wedding where every detail had been planned to perfection, from the crystal chandeliers to the emerald necklace at Juliette Mercer’s throat, but none of that mattered once the cold air swept into the Saint Aurelia Ballroom carrying the smell of burnt flesh, hospital linen, and old ash. And when I saw Juliette’s face turn white, I understood that this woman had not come here by accident.