Alisa Ashcroft había creído comprender al hombre con quien se casó durante casi cuarenta años, pero aquel desconocido vestido de novia le había hablado a Gideon con una intimidad que jamás había oído dirigida a nadie más. Su pregunta resonó entre el bullicio de la ceremonia arruinada, donde los invitados seguían susurrando y las rosas caídas yacían esparcidas sobre el mármol. Gideon permanecía a varios metros de distancia, con el rostro impasible, observando cómo el anciano era escoltado por el personal de seguridad hacia la entrada lateral. Cuando Alisa miró a su marido, este evitó su mirada y comenzó a dar instrucciones al gerente del local, hablando con la autoridad controlada que utilizaba siempre que un acuerdo comercial amenazaba con fracasar.
Willa había dejado de llorar, aunque sus deditos seguían aferrados a la mano de Alisa. El vestido color marfil de la niña estaba manchado donde había tropezado con el arreglo floral, y uno de sus zapatos blancos había desaparecido bajo los paneles rotos. Alisa la estrechó entre sus brazos, sintiendo el ritmo irregular de su respiración contra su hombro. Minutos antes, Willa había corrido hacia su hermano con un hacha, y Alisa aún recordaba el terrible instante en que temió que su hija pudiera golpear a alguien en lugar de la pared.
Al otro lado del salón, Adrian permaneció junto a Tessa mientras los servicios de emergencia examinaban las marcas en sus muñecas. El vestido de novia de Tessa se había enganchado en los bordes ásperos del escaparate derrumbado, dejando su delicado encaje rasgado cerca del dobladillo, y su cabello oscuro le caía suelto alrededor del rostro. Aunque estaba a salvo físicamente, cualquier movimiento inesperado a su alrededor le tensaba los hombros. Adrian la abrazaba, con la atención dividida entre la mujer con la que casi se había casado y el anciano impostor que, de alguna manera, había ocupado su lugar.
Cuando un agente de policía se acercó para obtener su testimonio inicial, Tessa tuvo dificultades para describir los momentos previos a su desaparición. Recordaba que la habían llamado desde su suite nupcial porque supuestamente alguien había descubierto un problema con su velo, seguido del estrecho pasillo de servicio y la repentina presión de unas manos desconocidas que la sujetaban. A partir de ahí, su recuerdo se fragmentó, y el agente le dio tiempo para que se tranquilizara en lugar de insistir en obtener detalles mientras ella se encontraba visiblemente angustiada.
«Celia me dijo que alguien tenía que ajustar el velo cerca de la entrada de servicio», explicó Tessa, frotándose las muñecas doloridas. «Pensé que era otro problema de última hora con las flores. Seguí las instrucciones porque confiaba en todos los que trabajaban aquí».
Alisa looked toward the ballroom doors, searching for Celia Hartwell among the remaining staff. The wedding planner had supervised every arrangement at Rosehaven, from the catering service to the enormous rose display that now lay in pieces across the altar. Earlier that morning, she had assured Alisa that everything was proceeding smoothly, even bringing Tessa a cup of tea while the hairstylist finished her work. Now Celia stood near the service corridor speaking to an employee, her face drawn beneath the same immaculate makeup she had worn throughout the preparations.
An officer suggested that Willa should rest somewhere quiet until the immediate confusion had settled. Alisa carried her daughter into a small sitting room adjoining the conservatory, where the music from the ballroom had finally stopped. Through the open windows came the distant sound of vehicles arriving along the gravel drive, mingled with the fragrance of climbing roses outside. Willa sat curled against her mother on a velvet sofa, watching Alisa examine a shallow scratch on her palm.
For several minutes, Alisa simply held her daughter and allowed her to settle. She had learned during the years since adopting Willa that the little girl often needed silence before she could describe something frightening, particularly when adults had already dismissed her concerns. Willa eventually reached toward the ribbon tied around Alisa’s wrist, a narrow blue satin bow that had been part of the wedding preparations. Her expression changed as she touched the fabric, and she began explaining what had happened before the ceremony.
“I put a blue bow on Tessa’s shoe because she said every bride needs something blue,” Willa murmured, turning the ribbon between her fingers. “She let me make the knot myself, even though it wasn’t very pretty. I saw that same bow behind the flowers.”
Alisa remembered the moment clearly. Tessa had knelt beside Willa that morning, patiently holding out her satin shoe while the little girl struggled with the ribbon. The bride had laughed when the bow came out uneven, promising to wear it exactly as Willa had tied it because nobody else could have made one quite like hers. Alisa had watched them from the doorway, grateful that her future daughter-in-law treated Willa’s affection with such tenderness.
Willa continued describing her movements through the preparation rooms, speaking slowly as she tried to remember their order. Before finding Tessa, she had gone looking for her flower basket and wandered past a partially open dressing-room door. Inside, an elderly man wearing a white gown had been standing before a mirror, carefully positioning something that looked like Tessa’s face over his own. Celia had appeared before Willa could understand what she was seeing and guided her away, explaining that someone was preparing a special surprise for the wedding.
The explanation had troubled Willa because she had already seen Tessa getting dressed upstairs. She returned toward the conservatory, intending to find her brother, when she heard a faint knocking sound from behind the enormous rose display. Between two decorative panels, she noticed a white satin shoe with a crooked blue bow attached to it. As Willa moved closer, she saw Tessa’s frightened eyes through the narrow opening and realized that her future sister-in-law was sitting inside the concealed service space.
