Chloe kept staring at the silver seal.
I reached for the garment bag but stopped before touching it.
“Don't.”
She pulled her hand back.
“Why?”
“If the boutique can tell us whether this was tampered with, we need to leave it exactly as it is.”
She nodded.
Her eyes remained fixed on the damaged seal.
“I feel stupid.”
“You're not stupid.”
“I should have known.”
“Known what?”
“That she hated me.”
I shook my head.
“You didn't cause this.”
“She thinks I took you away from her.”
“She thinks that because she's confused about what family means.”
Chloe looked at me.
“She isn't the only one.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
“What do you mean?”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
“Your parents keep protecting her.”
I lowered myself beside her.
“They've always done that.”
“Even now?”
I didn't have an answer.
That was the problem.
My parents had spent years explaining Harper's behavior instead of confronting it. When she broke something, she had been stressed. When she insulted someone, she had been joking. When she crossed a boundary, she had been emotional.
There was always a reason.
There was never a consequence.
Chloe wiped beneath one eye.
“My mother would have told me to leave.”
“Leave?”
“This house.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“She always said you could tell who respected you by what they did when they thought you weren't watching.”
I looked down at the ruined gown.
“I wish she were here.”
“So do I.”
We sat quietly for a while.
Then I stood.
“I’m calling the boutique.”
The woman who answered asked me to send photographs.
I sent everything.
The damaged lace. The broken button. The garment bag. The seal.
She called back less than ten minutes later.
“Please don't try to clean it yourself.”
“I won't.”
“We need to inspect the fabric.”
“Can you tell if it can be restored?”
“We can't promise anything until we see it.”
Chloe listened from the bed.
I asked one more question.
“What about the seal?”
The woman hesitated.
“What about it?”
“It looks like it was broken.”
There was another pause.
“Yes.”
“Would that happen if the bag had simply been opened and closed?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because that seal isn't meant to be reusable.”
I looked at Chloe.
“So somebody opened it.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“They either replaced the bag or tried to make it look untouched.”
I thanked her and ended the call.
Chloe stood.
“So she lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
That answer no longer felt good enough.
We went downstairs.
Harper was gone from the kitchen.
I found my father at the dining table, scrolling through his phone.
“Where is Harper?”
He didn't look up.
“Outside.”
“Did she tell you she opened the dress?”
Dad's thumb stopped moving.
“No.”
I placed my phone on the table.
“She did.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“The boutique confirmed the seal was broken.”
Dad frowned.
“Maybe someone at the house did it.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don't know.”
“You know Harper better than anyone.”
His expression hardened.
“Don't turn this into an attack on your sister.”
“My fiancée's wedding dress was thrown into your pool.”
“I understand that.”
“No, you don't.”
Dad stood.
“Watch yourself.”
I almost stepped back out of habit.
That was what his voice had always done.
When I was a child, it ended arguments.
When I was a teenager, it ended conversations.
Now it only made me angry.
“I've spent my entire life watching everyone make excuses for Harper.”
Dad stared at me.
“She needs help.”
“Then help her.”
“I have.”
“No. You've protected her.”
He looked away.
Mom entered the room.
“What is going on?”
I told her about the seal.
Her face fell.
“Harper wouldn't do that.”
“She already admitted opening the bag.”
Mom looked at me sharply.
“She admitted that?”
“Not yet.”
I paused.
“She hasn't admitted anything.”
Mom seemed relieved.
That reaction told me something.
“You know she was upstairs.”
Mom folded her arms.
“So were other people.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
She sighed.
“This family is already under enough pressure.”
“Because of Harper?”
“Because you're getting married.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does to me.”
“Then explain it.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“You and Chloe have been making decisions very quickly.”
“We're adults.”
“I know.”
“We're already legally married.”
Her face changed.
I noticed.
So did Chloe.
Mom recovered quickly.
“I know you signed papers.”
“Then why does everyone act like the ceremony is some kind of deadline?”
Mom looked at Chloe.
She did not answer.
Chloe stepped forward.
“Because once we have the ceremony, your family loses control.”
Mom flinched.
“That isn't fair.”
“Isn't it?”
“I have never tried to control you.”
Chloe's eyes moved to me.
I knew exactly what she was thinking.
My mother had not directly told us what to do.
She had simply made disapproval feel like guilt.
It was subtler than control.
Sometimes it was worse.
I walked outside.
Harper was sitting near the far end of the patio.
She had her phone in her hand.
When she saw me, she locked the screen.
“What?”
“Show me your phone.”
She laughed.
“Excuse me?”
“You were recording something earlier.”
“No.”
“I saw you.”
“You saw me holding my phone.”
“You were near the pool.”
“So?”
“Did you record the dress?”
“No.”
“Delete nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“I haven't recorded anything.”
“Then you won't mind letting me see.”
She stood.
“You're becoming paranoid.”
“My wedding dress was in the pool.”
“Your wedding dress.”
She said the words with strange emphasis.
I noticed.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Harper.”
She looked toward the house.
“Why does everyone keep acting like Chloe is the only person who matters?”
“This isn't about that.”
“It always is.”
She turned back to me.
“You're leaving us.”
“I'm getting married.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“You used to be my brother.”
“I still am.”
“Not really.”
I took a slow breath.
“I can't be your brother the way I was when we were kids.”
Her eyes became wet.
“I knew it.”
“Knew what?”
“That she would change you.”
“Chloe didn't change me.”
“She did.”
“No. Growing up did.”
Harper looked away.
“You don't understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
She said nothing.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, “You used to choose me.”
“That isn't how this works.”
“It was.”
“When?”
“Always.”
I shook my head.
“Harper, I'm not something you get to keep.”
She wiped her cheek.
“I thought after the wedding you'd forget about us.”
“I won't.”
“You will.”
“I won't.”
“You say that now.”
She walked past me.
I let her go.
That night, Chloe and I stayed in the guest room.
We barely slept.
The ruined dress was spread across clean towels near the window. The fabric smelled faintly of chlorine. Every time I woke, I could hear the air conditioner clicking on and off.
Around two in the morning, Chloe whispered my name.
“Are you awake?”
“Yes.”
“Someone came into the room.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“I heard the door.”
I switched on the lamp.
The hallway was empty.
The door was still slightly open.
I got out of bed and checked the hall.
Nothing.
When I returned, Chloe was standing beside the nightstand.
She opened the drawer.
Then she froze.
“What?”
“My folder.”
“What folder?”
“The documents.”
She pulled the drawer all the way open.
Empty.
“What was inside?”
“Our civil marriage certificate. Copies of the insurance paperwork. My mother's death certificate.”
My stomach tightened.
“You had it here?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see it?”
“This afternoon.”
We searched everything.
Suitcases.
Closet.
Desk.
Under the bed.
Nothing.
Then Chloe crouched beside the closet.
“There.”
On the top shelf was an old wooden box.
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to me since I was a teenager.
I dragged it down and opened it.
Almost empty.
Inside was one folded sheet of paper.
I unfolded it.
A photocopy of our marriage certificate.
Across the bottom, someone had written three words.
YOU ALREADY LOST.
Chloe covered her mouth.
I stared at the handwriting.
It was unfamiliar.
The paper shook slightly in my hand.
Someone had taken our private documents.
Someone had entered our room.
And whoever left that message wanted us to know they were close enough to do it again.
I photographed the note.
Then I photographed the empty drawer.
Chloe whispered, “We need to leave.”
“I know.”
“No. Tonight.”
I looked toward the door.
She was right.
We packed quickly.
As I zipped my suitcase, footsteps approached.
The door opened.
My father stood outside.
His face was pale.
“What happened?”
I held up the note.
“Who wrote this?”
Dad stared at it.
Then he looked at Chloe.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
His eyes dropped.
“I should have told you something.”
“What?”
He stepped inside and closed the door.
“Your mother knew Harper was planning something.”
I felt the room grow colder.
“What kind of something?”
Dad looked at the floor.
“She knew Harper had been asking questions.”
“About what?”
“Your finances.”
Chloe went still.
“What finances?”
Dad swallowed.
“Your house. Your savings. Your insurance.”
I stared at him.
“Why would Harper care about my insurance?”
He took too long to answer.
Then he said, “Because she knows the policy is worth two million dollars.”
Chloe gripped my arm.
I looked at my father.
“How does she know?”
He closed his eyes.
And for the first time that night, I understood that the ruined dress had never been the real problem.
It had only been the first thing we had caught.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: Harper Finally Admitted She Had Opened the Dress, but What She Revealed About Our Marriage Made My Entire Family Go Silent
Five Days Before the Wedding, I Found My Fiancée’s Dress Floating in My Family’s Pool and Knew Someone Had Done It Deliberately
Part 2 of 20
