A cream-colored card.
I bent down slowly, my fingers trembling just slightly as I picked it up.
Three words.
You’ll thank me later. — Judith.
The handwriting blurred as I stared at it too long.
“Claire?” Naomi’s voice called from the hotel suite living room. “Hair’s here. Also your mom wants to know if the photographer can—”
She stopped mid-sentence as she stepped into the doorway.
Her expression changed instantly.
“Why do you look like you’ve seen a body?”
I didn’t answer.
I just held out the note.
Naomi crossed the room quickly, took it from me, read it once, then looked up at the dress.
Her face hardened.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “Absolutely not.”
My mother, Elena, followed seconds later, carrying two cups of coffee. She froze when she saw the dress and immediately set them down, as if she’d forgotten why she was holding them.
“What is that?” she demanded.
“That,” I said, my voice thinner and sharper than I intended, “is not my dress.”
My pulse spiked so fast it made me dizzy.