My fiancé died before our wedding — three months later, his mother spotted me at another wedding and immediately tried to hide.

I took it.

I don't know exactly when I decided.

One moment Julian was holding the envelope out and the next it was in my hand, tucked against my side under my florist's apron.

"What do I do with this?" I asked.

"That's up to you."

"Don't do that.

Don't hand me a grenade and then act like you're neutral."

Julian's mouth tightened.

"I'm telling you the truth.

What you do with it is your choice.

I've already made mine by giving it to you."

"And what does your choice cost you?"

He looked away.

"Probably everything."

I didn't have time to press him further.

Applause broke from inside the ceremony hall — the kind that meant it was done.

The marriage was official.

I moved back toward the reception setup.

I had a job to finish.

And I needed to think.

The next hour was the longest of my life.

I arranged centerpieces.

I adjusted the arch near the sweetheart table.

I smiled at a caterer who complimented the white peonies.

My hands moved on their own while my mind worked through everything Julian had told me.

Adrian wasn't d*ad.

He had let me believe he was to avoid consequences he'd brought on himself.

His father had staged a funeral.

His mother had stood beside me and cried real tears — or what looked like real tears — while I shook apart next to her.

And now he was in a receiving line twenty feet away, shaking hands with guests, laughing at something his new father-in-law said.

I watched him from across the room.

He still hadn't seen me.

Then Colleen did.

She broke away from the receiving line and crossed the room faster than I expected for a woman her age.

She stopped just close enough to speak quietly.

"Meredith.

Please.

Leave."

"I'm contracted to be here until the reception ends."

"I will pay you.

I will pay you double.

Just go."

"You held my hand at his funeral, Colleen."

Her face crumpled for just a moment.

Then it hardened again.

"You don't understand what was at stake."

"Then help me understand.

Whose idea was the closed casket?

Yours or your husband's?"

She glanced toward the receiving line.

"Keep your voice down."

"Whose idea was it?"

"Gerald's." The name came out like something she'd been holding in her mouth too long.

"It was Gerald's idea.

All of it.

Adrian didn't want — it wasn't supposed to go that far."

"What was it supposed to go?"

"He was just supposed to disappear for a while.

Let things settle.

Gerald said once the merger was done, once everything was stable, Adrian would come back and explain.

That you would understand."

I looked at her.

"He was going to come back and explain that he'd let me bury him."

Colleen said nothing.

"After the merger.

After the business was safe.

After I'd spent however many months thinking I'd lost the person I was going to marry." I kept my voice level.

It cost me something.

"That was the plan."

"Gerald said—"

"I don't care what Gerald said." I turned back to the centerpiece I'd been adjusting.

"Go back to your family, Colleen."

She didn't move immediately.

I could feel her standing there.

"What are you going to do?" she finally asked.

"My job."

She left.

I finished the centerpiece.

I moved to the next table.

And when I reached the sweetheart table — the one I'd built the largest arrangement for, the one where Adrian and his new bride would sit together for the first time as husband and wife — I set the envelope from Julian directly underneath the floral display.

Not visible.

Not yet.

Just there.