inquest

Chapter 4 - The Glass Pavilion

The Charleston Harbor Pavilion was a stunning glass-and-steel structure jutting out over the water, glittering like a diamond against the dark, stormy Atlantic. Inside, string lights cascaded from the vaulted ceilings, and a live jazz band played smooth melodies while servers balanced trays of champagne flutes among the elite of South Carolina's scientific and financial community.

According to the guest list Marcus pulled up on his phone, the post-wedding celebration had morphed into an impromptu corporate gala celebrating Layla's recent promotion to Senior Vice President of Global Operations—a position she had secured by systematically discrediting and ousting her predecessor six months earlier.

Marcus and I arrived at 8:00 PM.

I wore a sleek, backless emerald green evening gown that I had purchased on the way down—a sharp departure from the pale gold bridesmaid dress designed to make me look washed-out and invisible. My dark hair was styled in sharp, cascading waves, and my makeup was crisp and flawless. When I stepped through the glass double doors, nobody looked at me with pity. They looked at me with absolute, stunned disbelief.

The room didn't go silent immediately, but a ripple of murmurs spread like wildfire across the floor.

“Isn't that... wasn't she the bridesmaid who ran out?”“Where is Lydia? Didn't she disappear?”

Across the grand ballroom, standing near the VIP stage with a glass of vintage Dom Pérignon in her hand, was Layla.

She wore a custom off-the-shoulder white lace reception gown that looked like it cost more than my first car. Her hair was immaculate, her smile radiant as she laughed at something the Chief Executive Officer of Ellery BioSystems—an aging billionaire named Arthur Vance Jr.—was saying.

Then, she turned her head and saw me.

The glass of champagne stopped halfway to her mouth. Her smile vanished instantly, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as she stared at me across fifty feet of polished marble flooring.

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For three seconds, the golden girl of Charleston looked like she had just seen a ghost crawl out of a freshly dug grave.

Slowly, deliberately, I picked up a glass of sparkling water from a passing server's tray, raised it toward her in a silent toast, and began walking straight across the room.

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