Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Bridal Party
Revenge, I realized over the next forty-eight hours, requires administrative efficiency.
Once the blinders fell off, the patterns of Jenna’s behavior over the past year stopped looking like quirky oversights and started looking like calculated sabotage.
On Wednesday morning, I called our baker, an exquisite boutique pastry chef named Claire who was designing our four-tier lemon-lavender wedding cake.
"Claire, hi, it's Emily Vance—well, soon to be Vance. I’m just calling to confirm our final delivery time for Saturday."
"Oh! Emily!" Claire sounded flustered on the other end of the line. "I’m so glad you called. I was actually about to email you. Your maid of honor called me on Monday to say you were thinking of switching the tier fillings to hazelnut praline."
My hand froze around my coffee mug. "Hazelnut?"
"Yes! She said you were worried the lemon was too summery for an autumn wedding. I told her hazelnut would incur a rush fee, but she said you’d gladly pay it."
"Claire," I said, keeping my voice silky and calm, "my younger sister, Clara, has a life-threatening tree nut allergy. If hazelnut praline is anywhere near that cake, my sister will go into anaphylactic shock before the toasts are finished."
There was a sharp intake of breath on the line. "Oh my God. Emily, I had no idea! Jenna sounded so sure—"
"Jenna was mistaken," I said smoothly. "Keep the lemon-lavender. And Claire? From this moment on, no one makes changes to any vendor contracts without a four-digit security code. The code is 1-0-2-4. If anyone—including Jenna—calls without that code, you tell them no. Understood?"
"Understood completely."
I hung up, my blood running cold. Jenna had been at the emergency room with me three years ago when Clara accidentally ate a pesto dish containing pine nuts. She *knew* Clara’s allergy was severe. She knew Clara carried two EpiPens in every purse she owned.
Was Jenna trying to send my sister to the hospital during the reception? Or did she just want chaos? A ruined cake, a medical emergency, a wedding thrown into disarray while she stepped in to "save the day"?
Next, I called Sarah and Mia, my two other bridesmaids. We had set up a conference call under the guise of discussing hair and makeup schedules.
"Hey Em!" Sarah chimed in. "Are you getting excited? Less than a week!"
"Beyond excited," I said. "Hey, quick question for you guys. Did Jenna ever talk to you about the bachelorette party expenses? I saw the final invoice for the Airbnb, and the numbers seemed a little high compared to what we initially agreed on."
A heavy, awkward silence fell over the conference line.
"Sarah?" I prompted. "Mia?"
"Look, Em," Mia said hesitantly. "We didn't want to bring it up because we didn't want to stress you out before the wedding..."
"Bring what up?"
"Jenna told us you insisted on the private yacht rental in Charleston," Sarah confessed, her voice tight with discomfort. "She said you were being a total bridezilla about it, that you demanded the luxury package with the private bartender, and that if we couldn't afford our split of the extra fifteen hundred dollars, you’d be 'deeply hurt' and question our loyalty."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
The bachelorette party in Charleston had included a two-hour harbor boat tour. I had specifically requested the public ninety-minute ferry cruise because I knew Mia was struggling with her student loans and Sarah had just bought a condo. Jenna had texted me the week before, saying, *“Surprise! The boat company had a cancellation, so they upgraded us to a private yacht for free! It’s my gift to you!”*
She had told me it was a free upgrade.
And behind my back, she had shaken down my two closest college friends for fifteen hundred dollars, painting me as an entitled monster who would discard their friendships if they didn't pay up.
"Emily? Are you there?" Sarah asked softly.
"I’m here," I choked out. "Girls... I never asked for a private yacht. Jenna told me the company upgraded us for free."
A collective gasp echoed across the phone line.
"What?" Mia shrieked. "She literally showed us a text from you saying, *'If they can’t afford to celebrate me properly, they shouldn't come!'*"
"I never sent that text," I said, cold fury settling deep into my marrow. "She forged it. Or took a screenshot of someone else's name changed to mine in her contacts."
"Why the hell would she do that?!" Sarah demanded, her voice shaking with rage. "We’ve been walking on eggshells around you for two months because we thought the wedding stress had turned you into a sociopath!"
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"Because," I said, leaning over my kitchen island, looking at the crossed-out seating charts, "Jenna didn't just want Nick. She wanted to isolate me completely. She wanted to strip away every single person in my life until the only person I had left to lean on was her. And then, she was going to take Nick, too."
***
