Chapter 4 - One Million Views
Mother left the room in a storm of whispered curses. Within five minutes of her departure, my phone began vibrating continuously on the bedside table.
Notifications flooded the screen like a burst pipe. Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, text messages from distant relatives and college acquaintances I hadn't spoken to in half a decade.
I picked up the device with trembling fingers.
Briany had posted it at midnight.
The video had already racked up 1.4 million views. Sutton’s TikTok handle was tagged prominently, along with trending audio of a cartoon sound effect—a loud *boing* followed by a comical slide whistle.
The caption read:
*When your sister tries to steal the spotlight at your rehearsal and forgets she has two left feet (and one broken one) 💀😂 #BridesmaidFail #ClumsySister #WeddingDrama #DramaQueen*
In the comments, thousands of strangers were mocking me:
*LMAO she folded like a cheap lawn chair!*
*Why did she even wear heels with a broken leg? What an attention seeker.*
*The bride looks so done with her crap lol.*
Briany had deliberately cut the clip three seconds before Julian shouted for an ambulance. She cut it right when Sutton laughed. To an unsuspecting internet viewer, it looked like a harmless, clumsy tumble followed by lighthearted sisterly teasing.
Except Briany had made one fatal mistake.
She had uploaded the clip directly to their shared family iCloud album before running it through TikTok’s editing app. And because I had set up the family cloud storage five years ago, my iPad in my backpack possessed the uncompressed, unedited master recording—complete with synchronized metadata and the raw ambient audio that TikTok’s music had covered up.
I opened the raw file and plugged in my earbuds.
The audio was horrifyingly clear.
Ten seconds before the fall, Briany’s voice whispered close to the mic: *"She’s on the third step. Go now, Sutton. Make sure she drops the crutch, it'll look funnier."*
Then came Sutton’s whispered reply: *"Watch this. Little bitch won't be walking down the aisle ahead of me tomorrow."*
Then, the loud, sickening thud of Sutton’s designer heel driving violently into the back of my ankle, followed by the wet snap of my tibia and my scream of agony.
My hands shook, but not from fear. From a rage so pure and blinding it burned away every lingering trace of familial love I had ever possessed for my sister.
They hadn't just been reckless. It wasn't an impulsive prank gone wrong.
It was premeditated battery.
A knock sounded at the door. I pulled off the earbuds quickly, expecting the police or my furious mother returning for round two.
Instead, a tall man in a tailored navy suit stepped inside. He had sharp, intelligent gray eyes, carrying a leather briefcase that looked like it had seen its share of high-stakes courtrooms.
"Fallon Vance?" he asked, his voice low and commanding.
"Yes. Who are you?"
May you like
"My name is Liam Bennett," he said, shutting the door firmly behind him and setting his briefcase on the visitor's chair. "I'm a senior partner at Bennett & Cole Litigation. And about twenty minutes ago, Sutton’s fiancé, Harrison, hired me on your behalf."
***
