“Who did?”
“I think Owen.”
Audrey studied her.
“Why would he sew a drive into your wedding dress?”
“He didn’t sew it in himself. The dress was altered after the final fitting. Owen insisted on collecting it from the designer’s studio.”
“And you never noticed?”
“It was inside the lower lining. An agent found it when they scanned the dress.”
Audrey tried to sit higher against the pillows.
“What was on it?”
“They haven’t told me.”
“But you came here because you think I know.”
Seraphina turned.
“No. I came because I need you to understand something before everyone decides what kind of person I am.”
Audrey’s voice remained quiet.
“You spent years telling me what kind of person you thought I was.”
Seraphina flinched.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The answer came without defensiveness.
Seraphina moved toward the chair Diana had left behind but did not sit.
“When we were children, Julian used to hide when our parents argued,” she said. “He would take a book into the wine cellar and stay there until the house was quiet.”
Audrey said nothing.
“I didn’t hide,” Seraphina continued. “I stayed close. I listened. I learned which version of the truth my mother wanted to hear.”
“What does that have to do with tonight?”
