Before I Say I Do: The Billionaire Heiress Returns

My thumb hovered over the grooved plastic of the play button.

Asher's grip on my elbow tightened until my fingers went numb. "What are you doing?" he hissed, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

I ignored him, scanning the front rows of the cathedral. The sea of bewildered guests stared back, waiting for the audio to play. My eyes locked onto a man seated in the third row. Grant Gallagher, my grandmother's attorney.

Grant sat perfectly rigid, his hands resting on his cane. He didn't blink. Then, he gave a microscopic, almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Not yet.

The message was clear. I didn't have all the pieces to strike.

I shifted my weight, forcing a bright, apologetic laugh into the microphone clipped to the priest's robes. "I want everyone here to listen to a recording from two years ago... but it seems the battery is completely dead."

A collective exhale rippled through the cathedral. The tension in the room snapped, replaced by soft chuckles from the audience.

Asher's jaw unclenched. The panic in his eyes dissolved into sheer confusion. "Vivienne, what is this?"

"A wedding gift," I lied smoothly, lowering the silver device. "A voice note from my grandmother. I wanted to play her blessing before we said our vows. Clearly, the tech failed me."

"You terrified me," Asher said, his voice trembling slightly. "I thought you were calling off the wedding."

"Why would I do that?" I asked, holding his gaze.

The priest offered a sympathetic nod. "Technology often tests our patience, my child. Shall we proceed with the rings?"

"I need a minute," I said, stepping back from the altar. "My makeup is running. Five minutes, please."

"Viv, we are live," Asher warned, reaching for my hand again.

I pulled away before he could make contact. "Five minutes," I repeated to the priest.

I didn't wait for Asher's response. I turned and walked back down the aisle, clutching my bouquet against my chest, ignoring the murmurs of twenty-three million viewers.

The heavy oak door of the bridal suite clicked shut behind me, instantly cutting off the organ music.

I dropped the flowers onto the marble vanity. The silver recorder poked out from between the crushed white roses.

My stomach churned. I gripped the edge of the table, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror.

The cedar scent from the altar still lingered in my nose. It was the trigger.

This morning in Asher's study, that sharp smell had hit me while he hugged me from behind. After he left for the venue, I had stood before his wall safe. My fingers moved before my brain could process the numbers.

Four, eight, zero, two.

The date of the car crash.

I had retrieved the original audio file from the steel box. But the backup was still missing.

"Take this," I had told Mia, pressing a blue flash drive into her palm a week before the accident.

"What is it?" she had asked, tossing it into her designer purse.

"Insurance," I said. "If anything happens to me, take it straight to my lawyer. Grant Gallagher."

"You're being dramatic, Viv. Nothing is going to happen to you."

"Promise me, Mia."

"I promise," she had sworn, looking me right in the eye.

She never took it to Grant. She hadn't moved abroad, either. She was in the car with Asher, planning to bleed my company dry.

A sharp knock broke my focus.

The door swung open. Mia stood in the threshold, holding two crystal flutes of champagne.

Her blonde hair was styled in an elegant updo, her blush-pink bridesmaid gown perfectly tailored. The face of the woman I had trusted for thirteen years now made bile rise in my throat.

"They told me you needed a touch-up," Mia said, stepping into the room.

I forced my facial muscles to lift into a smile. "Just a minor meltdown."

"You terrified everyone out there," she said, crossing the room to hand me a glass. "Asher looked like he was about to pass out."

"It was just a recorder," I said, accepting the flute. The glass felt ice-cold against my sweaty palm. "I wanted to surprise him with Grandma's message."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mia asked, her tone light, but her eyes sharp. "I could have checked the batteries for you."

"It was a last-minute decision," I lied, bringing the rim of the glass to my lips. "I found it this morning."

"In your old boxes?"

"Yes," I said. "Right at the bottom."

Mia took a sip of her drink. "You always were a sentimental one."

She stepped behind me, her gaze meeting mine in the mirror. She wrapped her free arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.

"You look the most beautiful today," Mia murmured, resting her cheek against mine.

I stared at our reflection. The devoted best friend. The blushing bride. Two liars trapped in a dressing room.

"Thank you, Mia," I said, keeping my voice entirely level. "I really couldn't do this without you."

"I'll always be right beside you," she replied, squeezing my shoulder. "We're sisters."

"Always," I agreed.

Her eyes drifted downward. Away from the mirror, down to the marble vanity.

"Your flowers got a bit crushed," she noted.

"I gripped them too hard," I said quickly. "Nerves."

"Let me fix the arrangement for you," she offered, setting her champagne glass down next to my makeup bag.

She reached out.

I stayed completely still. If I snatched the bouquet away, she would know I was hiding something. I had to let her touch it.

"You really mangled these," Mia said, her tone teasing.

"I was anxious," I replied, watching her hands.

Her manicured fingers brushed the white silk ribbon.

She nudged a bruised rose petal aside to adjust the stem.

Her index finger slid downward, slipping past the foliage.

Her skin met the cold, hard metal casing of the hidden recorder.

Mia's smile froze.