“Five years ago,” Liam addressed the crowd, his voice steady, “Clara Sterling lost control of her vehicle on Route 1. The police report cited driver error. Intoxication. Emotional instability.”
He looked at Clara in the back row. “But Clara doesn’t drink when she drives. And the only thing unstable about that night was the brake line of her car.”
“Lies!” Vanessa screamed. “He’s lying! He’s crazy!”
“I found the fluid on the driveway the next morning,” Liam continued, ignoring the bride. “I knew it wasn’t an accident. But I couldn’t prove who did it. Not then. The evidence had been washed away, the car compacted within twenty-four hours on Marcus’s orders.”
On the screen, a video began to play. It was grainy, shot from a hidden camera inside a living room. The timestamp was from three years ago.
The audience watched in horror as a clearly intoxicated Vanessa appeared on screen, pacing her penthouse living room, holding a glass of wine. She was talking to a friend—one of her bridesmaids currently standing at the altar, who now looked ready to faint.
Video Vanessa: “It’s so annoying. Liam keeps asking about the anniversary of her death. He won’t let it go.”
Video Bridesmaid: “You just have to be patient. He’ll forget her eventually.”
Video Vanessa: “He better. I didn’t crawl under that damn car with a pair of wire cutters just to be the second choice forever.”
