Chapter 2 - THE SECOND SHADOW
Sophie was taken to Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
I sat beside her in the ambulance while the paramedics monitored her breathing.
Her eyes remained closed.
Every few seconds, I whispered her name.
Each time, she squeezed my fingers weakly.
At the hotel, Detective Lena Brooks entered the security room with Daniel Ross.
She would later tell me exactly what the footage showed.
The recording began forty minutes before Preston announced that his phone was missing.
Sophie’s denim jacket hung over the back of her chair.
I was beside her, speaking to an elderly aunt.
Preston walked past our table.
He did not touch the jacket.
Not yet.
Five minutes later, my mother approached Sophie.
She smiled.
She asked Sophie to carry a small gift to the bride’s table.
Sophie stood and walked away.
While I was distracted by another guest, my mother removed the denim jacket from the chair.
She carried it toward a shadowed hallway near the ballroom kitchen.
Preston was waiting there.
The camera captured everything.
My mother handed him the jacket.
Preston removed his titanium iPhone from his tuxedo pocket.
He slipped it inside.
Then my mother returned the jacket to Sophie’s chair.
She stood beside me moments later as though nothing had happened.
She even adjusted the collar of Sophie’s dress.
The woman who had kissed my daughter’s cheek had already helped frame her.
Daniel replayed the recording three times.
There was no mistake.
Detective Brooks ordered copies secured on multiple drives.
Then she requested Preston’s arrest.
Henry Whitmore demanded that the footage remain private.
Camille began crying.
My father blamed the camera angle.
My mother claimed she had merely carried the jacket because it had fallen.
Then Preston made his first serious mistake.
He lunged toward the computer.
Daniel stepped in front of him.
Preston shoved him.
The officers forced Preston against the wall and placed him in handcuffs.
The guests began recording with their phones.
The golden child of the Carter family was escorted from his own wedding while his bride watched from the aisle.
At the hospital, I received a call from Detective Brooks.
She explained what they had seen.
For several seconds, I could not speak.
My mother had not simply ignored Sophie’s suffering.
She had helped create it.
“Why would they do this?” I asked.
“We’re still investigating,” Detective Brooks replied.
“But there’s something unusual about the phone.”
“What?”
“It contains a folder with your name on it.”
My heart began pounding.
“What kind of folder?”
“Financial documents.”
May you like
She paused.
“And according to the dates, your brother prepared them before the wedding.”
