Chapter 11: I Stayed Between Sophie And The Ballroom Entrance
I kept my body between Sophie and the ballroom entrance, though my knees had begun to ache against the marble and my hands would not stop trembling. She was folded against me, her white flower-girl dress bunched beneath my arm. A thin smear of blood remained on her cheek, bright against her fair skin. Tears had tracked through it and left pale, uneven lines.
Preston stood several yards away, still wearing his black tuxedo and red rose boutonniere. His fists had loosened, but he had not stepped back. The heavy oak menu board lay near him on the floor, one corner turned toward the ceiling. Gold calligraphy caught the ballroom light whenever someone shifted behind me.
The guests had not resumed moving. Their silence had weight. Some stared at Sophie. Others watched Preston. A few kept their eyes on the board, as if looking directly at it might require them to admit what it had done.
Sophie’s fingers twisted into the fabric at my waist. I lowered my chin until my cheek nearly touched her blonde hair and kept one arm around the back of her head. The white ribbon at her neck had shifted during the strike. I could feel its edge beneath my palm.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m here now.”
Her grip tightened. She did not answer.
Across the room, Preston looked past me toward the entrance archway. The tiny red light on the CCTV camera continued to blink above it. Once. Then again. Each flash seemed to draw his attention away from Sophie and toward the record being made of the room.
He took half a step in that direction.
I rose as far as I could without putting Sophie down. The movement pulled pain through my knees, but I did not move aside. My navy dress brushed the marble, and the hem caught beneath my shoe. Preston stopped when he saw that I would not clear his path.
His face had changed. The anger was still there, held tight around his jaw, but uncertainty moved beneath it. He glanced at the camera, then at the people standing between the tables. No one spoke. No one came forward. Still, no one looked away for long.
I shifted Sophie higher against my chest. Her cheek pressed into my shoulder. Blood dampened the napkin I had held there, and the cloth had begun to show through with red. I folded it once so the cleanest portion covered the mark. The motion felt small, almost useless, but it gave my hands something exact to do.
Near the entrance, the board remained where it had fallen. Its lower edge rested close to a dark line in the marble grout. I fixed that position in my mind. The board. The floor. Preston’s shoes. Sophie’s blood. The blinking camera.
A man near one of the tables raised his phone, then lowered it without taking a picture. Another guest edged backward, opening a narrow path toward the ballroom doors. The change was barely visible, but it altered the room. People were no longer only watching. They were preparing for what might come next.
Preston noticed it too. His shoulders squared, and his gaze moved from face to face, measuring who had seen enough to remember. Then he looked at me.
I held his eyes while Sophie stayed hidden against me. My voice came out low enough that it seemed meant for him alone.
“Don’t you ever touch her again.”
The warning did not loosen the room. It made the stillness firmer.
Beyond the entrance, a door began to open. A narrow band of brighter light appeared along its edge, and the people nearest it turned toward the sound. Preston remained between the fallen board and the archway, while I stayed planted in front of Sophie.
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The red camera light blinked again.
No one had secured the board. No one had reached the camera. The next person through that door could change what happened before either piece of evidence was preserved.
