The words on the screen were stark and black against the white light.
Don't do it. Check the groom's suite. Third floor. Room 305.
Aurora’s blood, which had been moving sluggishly, turned to ice water and then, instantly, to fire.
Her phone. The one she'd left on the penthouse terrace.
She hadn't forgotten it. He had. Liam, in his cold, calculated fury in the foyer, had forgotten she’d left it there. He must have sent someone to retrieve it, and they, seeing the text, had tried to warn her.
Or... or was this Vanessa? A final, cruel twist of the knife, to make Aurora find them herself?
It didn't matter. The "who" didn't matter.
Only the "what."
Room 305.
That wasn't the groom's suite. The groom's suite was on the second floor, opposite her own, a symbolic, chaste distance.
The thi
