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At the Aldermoor Hotel, I found Miles already in his tuxedo, looking so much like his father in that particular light that it nearly undid me before I’d said a single word.
I told him exactly what had happened. The note. The dress. The missing jewelry. Odette’s account of Camille leaving my hallway in the middle of the night.
His reaction shattered something in me I hadn’t expected to still be breakable.
He got angry. At me.
Camille appeared a moment later in white satin, sweetly asking what on earth I’d done to my hair, as though the question itself were an act of concern. When I told her she already knew exactly what had happened to it, Miles accused me — in front of two bridesmaids and his own best man — of trying to sabotage his wedding.
Of trying to sabotage his wedding.
That accusation hurt more than losing my hair ever could have.