Chapter 6 - The Midnight Strategy
Harrison slipped into my room ten minutes later, a baseball cap pulled low over his forehead. The handsome, polished golden boy of high-society charity circuits looked completely wrecked. His knuckles were raw, and the skin beneath his eyes was bruised with exhaustion.
"Fallon," he choked out, walking over and gently resting a hand near my uninjured knee. "I'm so sorry. I should have stopped her weeks ago. I saw the signs, but I didn't think... I never imagined she was capable of physical violence."
"She’s been doing things like this to me since we were kids, Harrison," I said softly. "You just finally saw behind the ring light."
Harrison reached into his coat pocket and placed a tiny digital voice recorder beside my tablet.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Briany and Sutton had breakfast together three hours ago at the estate's private terrace," Harrison said, his jaw tightening with disgust. "They thought I was in the shower. I left this recorder under the wicker cushion near the table."
Liam hit play.
Sutton’s high, musical laugh spilled into the sterile hospital room:
*"Did you see her face, Bri? God, the way she slid down those limestone steps was priceless. Mom said Fallon’s refusing to sign the police statement, but it doesn't matter. The doctor told Mom she’s doped up on morphine. By the time she gets a lawyer, Harrison and I will be in the Maldives, and our joint attorney will have filed the emergency conservatorship petition."*
Then Briany’s smug reply:
*"The video hit two million views, Sutton! Revolve and PrettyLittleThing both emailed asking for sponsored reels from the honeymoon. You’re officially an It-Girl."*
*"Of course I am,"* Sutton sneered. *"Fallon was always useless anyway. Now her broken leg is finally paying off. Make sure the videographer hooks up the projector at the reception before six. I want the rehearsal highlight reel playing on loop during our first dance."*
The recording clicked off. The room went dead silent.
Harrison looked like he wanted to throw up. "She doesn't love me. She doesn't love anyone. The whole wedding is an audition for a reality TV show pitch she sent to a production company last month."
"She wants the highlight reel on the projector?" I asked, looking up at Liam.
"Yes," Liam said smoothly. "She contracted the venue's AV team to sync all media through the main ballroom server by five o'clock."
"Can you gain access to that server, Liam?"
Liam smiled—a predatory, clinical expression. "Fallon, Bennett & Cole happens to own the corporate entity that manages the estate's hospitality infrastructure. I don't need to gain access. I own the keys."
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"Good," I whispered, the external pins in my leg sending a dull twinge through my thigh as I shifted upright. "Then let's give my sister the premiere she deserves."
***
