When Marcus placed the documents on the wedding table, Juliette looked as though the floor had vanished beneath her.
“You planned this.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted to humiliate me.”
“No.”
I looked around the ballroom.
“I wanted everyone to see what happened.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You’ve always been jealous of me.”
The sentence hurt more than I expected.
Not because it was true.
Because I had spent my whole life afraid that she believed it.
“I was jealous of one thing,” I said.
She frowned.
“What?”
“That you could still call me your sister.”
She stared.
“And you couldn’t even do that.”
Andrew finally stepped forward.
He looked completely lost.
He had been preparing to marry a woman he thought he understood.
Now he was watching a supposedly dead sister stand before her.
“Juliette.”
She turned.
“Andrew, don’t.”
“What is she saying?”
“She’s lying.”
Marcus opened another file.
“Then let’s examine the records.”
Juliette looked at him.
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am.”
She looked away.
Marcus placed a photograph on the table.
It was an old security image.
Grainy.
Blurry.
But recognizable.
Juliette stood outside the house.
Alive.
The timestamp was visible.
11:42 p.m.
My family had claimed she had been unconscious at that time.
Juliette stared at the photograph.
Marcus said:
“You told investigators you were trapped upstairs.”
She said nothing.
“You told them you escaped through a window.”
Nothing.
“You told them you never saw Caroline.”
Her lips parted.
Marcus placed another photograph beside the first.
This one showed the hallway.
Smoke.
Fire.
And a figure near the entrance.
Me.
Then another figure behind me.
Juliette.
She had been there.
The room erupted in whispers.
Andrew looked at her.
“You told me you weren’t there.”
Juliette shook her head.
“I was confused.”
“You said you were downstairs.”
“I don’t remember.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“That’s interesting.”
He opened another file.
“The hospital report states Caroline was found alive at 11:58 p.m.”
Juliette stared.
Marcus continued.
“Your death certificate was filed the following morning.”
“So?”
“The problem is that your father signed an estate authorization at 7:30 a.m.”
Juliette froze.
My father closed his eyes.
Marcus looked at him.
“You signed it before Caroline was officially identified.”
My father’s shoulders dropped.
“I was told she was dead.”
“By whom?”
My father looked at Juliette.
She whispered:
“Dad.”
I watched him.
“Tell them.”
He couldn’t.
So I did.
“She told you I was dead.”
Juliette shouted:
“No!”
“You told him.”
“No!”
“You told him I was gone.”
“I thought you were dead!”
“You knew.”
“I didn’t!”
“You looked at me.”
My voice cracked.
“You looked directly at me while I was trapped in that hallway.”
She began crying.
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You walked away.”
Her tears continued.
“I thought the ceiling was going to collapse.”
“And you left me.”
She covered her mouth.
For the first time, she looked less like a bride and more like the little girl I remembered.
But I couldn’t let that memory save her.
Not this time.
Marcus turned to Andrew.
“You deserve to know that the Mercer estate was transferred after Caroline’s death.”
Andrew looked at Juliette.
“Your sister’s inheritance?”
She said nothing.
He understood.
“That’s what this is about?”
“No.”
I answered.
“It’s about what happened before the money.”
I looked at my father.
“Tell him.”
My father finally spoke.
“Caroline found irregularities in the company.”
Andrew frowned.
Juliette looked at him.
“She misunderstood.”
“No,” my father said.
Juliette stared at him.
“Stop.”
He continued.
“She found transfers I couldn’t explain.”
“You promised!”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You promised you wouldn’t tell.”
The room went silent.
There it was.
The confession hidden inside a broken sentence.
Juliette realized what she had said.
Her face changed.
Marcus slowly closed the file.
“Thank you.”
She stared at him.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
I stepped toward her.
She stepped backward.
My satin-clad sister.
Comments (0)