*BZZZZT.*
An audio waveform pulsed across the black screens in jagged, electric-green spikes.
And then, Vanessa Reed’s voice boomed through the thirty-speaker concert sound system at seventy-five decibels, shaking the leaded-glass windows of the historic chapel:
*“Pour wine on her dress, lose the rings, whatever we have to do. She doesn’t deserve him.”*
The chapel went completely, terrifyingly dead.
Kendra Vance’s jaw dropped open, her skin turning the shade of spoiled lard beneath her heavy makeup.
The audio feed continued, every syllable echoing off the cedar rafters with ruthless, undeniable fidelity:
*“I’ve been trying to win him over for months… Men like Ethan don’t marry women like Olivia unless they’re looking for someone safe… I have the replacement rings in my purse… She won’t know what hit her… Olivia never realizes anything until it’s already too late.”*
Vanessa let out an ear-splitting, strangulated shriek, dropping her wine glass onto the stone aisle:
