“We’ll find out the truth, Audrey,” he promised, kissing my forehead.

“I swear it.”

Four hours later, the wedding gown was packed away in its box.

We sat in the library of Liam’s coastal estate, watching the rain beat heavily against the tall glass windows.

I stared at the black-and-white photos of the charred ruins of the charity hall, the place where I had almost died ten years ago.

My phone lay on the dark mahogany desk between us, its black screen reflecting the dim lamplight.

Suddenly, the screen lit up with an incoming call from Detective Holt.

Liam reached for it, tapping the screen to put it on speaker.

“Detective?” Liam said.

“We have a situation,” Holt’s voice came through, tight and strained over the line.

“Beatrice has already posted bail through an anonymous bond company.”

I felt a cold dread settle deep in my stomach.

“That’s not all,” Detective Holt continued, her tone dropping lower.

“Chloe never made it home tonight, and we just found her car abandoned near the coastal cliffs.”

The rain lashed harder against the glass, the sound filling the sudden silence in the library.