Chapter 6 - The Rehearsal Dinner Begins
The Grandview’s private ballroom was glowing with amber chandeliers and candlelight.
Eighty guests sat around ten circular tables draped in heavy damask linen. At the center of the room was the head table: my father, Arthur, looking distinguished but visibly tired in his charcoal suit; Eleanor, glowing like an emerald queen; Reid, clutching a tumbler of scotch with white knuckles; Sloane, sitting opposite him, staring fixedly at her silver bread plate with a face like chalk; and Reid’s parents, Richard and Helen Montgomery, projecting the effortless arrogance of old Midwestern wealth.
I sat between my father and Marcus.
Arthur reached over and took my hand under the tablecloth. His skin was warm, his grip familiar and steady. "You look tired, baby," he whispered, his deep voice thick with concern. "Eleanor’s been running you ragged with these arrangements, hasn't she?"
"Just making sure everything is in its proper place, Dad," I replied, squeezing his hand back.
"Your mother told me you were having second thoughts yesterday," Arthur murmured, leaning closer so Eleanor couldn't hear over the clatter of silverware. "Brooke, look at me. If you don't want this... if that boy isn't treating you like gold... you tell me right now. I don't give a damn about Richard's investment. We can pack up the car and drive home."
Tears pricked the back of my eyelids. The pure, unadulterated decency of my father was the very thing Eleanor had used as a weapon against me. She had told me his weak heart couldn't take the truth. But sitting next to him, seeing the fierce, protective love in his tired gray eyes, I knew the real truth: Arthur wouldn't die from the scandal. He was dying from thirty years of Eleanor’s slow, toxic poison.
"I'm fine, Dad," I whispered. "Just watch the screen when the speeches start."
Across the table, Reid caught my eye. He gave me a weak, placating smile, raising his scotch glass in a silent toast. He thought we had an arrangement. He thought the silence meant he had survived.
At 7:45 p.m., the dessert plates—poached pears in raspberry reduction—were served.
Richard Montgomery clinked his silver spoon against his champagne flute. The room fell silent. Richard stood, adjusting his gold cufflinks, his booming voice commanding the entire ballroom.
"Friends, colleagues, and family," Richard began, smiling broadly. "When Reid first brought Brooke to our home in Harbor Springs, Helen and I knew that our son had finally found his compass. Brooke is brilliant, diligent, and possesses the kind of quiet dignity that makes a family strong. This union doesn't just bind two young people; it cements a decades-long partnership between Arthur Vance and myself."
Polite applause rippled across the room. Eleanor beamed, resting her hand possessively over Arthur’s sleeve.
"And so," Richard continued, gesturing toward the back of the room, "before we hear from the maid of honor and the groom, Brooke has prepared a short video retrospective of their journey together over the past three years. Let’s raise our glasses to the future Mr. and Mrs. Reid Montgomery."
The lights dimmed.
The dual projector screens on either side of the head table flickered to life.
Reid settled back in his chair, smiling comfortably, expecting the montage of our trip to Maui and our college graduation photos.
The first slide appeared.
It was not a picture of Maui.
It was a high-resolution, full-color PDF scan of a bank transfer statement from the First Horizon National Bank.
At the top, highlighted in bright neon yellow, was the account name: *Brooke Vance & Reid Montgomery — Wedding Escrow.*
Directly below it was the transfer authorization: *$2,800.00 to Dr. Kenneth Vance, OBGYN Clinic, Chicago IL.*
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And at the bottom, clearly visible in the system audit log, was the originating IP address: *Eleanor Vance’s private residential desktop.*
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