The Anniversary Toast Chapter 03

The Anniversary Toast Chapter 03

I spent the next two hours getting ready.

I took a long shower, did my hair in loose waves, and applied my makeup with surgical precision. If this was going to be a spectacle, I intended to look untouchable.

The green dress fit like it was made for war — elegant, sharp, the kind of dress that made people look twice. I clasped the diamond pendant Grant had given me for our third anniversary around my neck and studied my reflection.

I looked beautiful. I looked like a woman who had everything.

Nora came out of the guest room in a fitted black dress, her dark hair pulled back. She looked like she was attending a funeral. In a way, she was.

“You good?” she asked.

“Never better.”

She handed me a small clutch. Inside was a backup USB drive. “Just in case.”

At six-thirty, Grant texted: “Car’s coming at 7. You’re going to love tonight. I have one more surprise for you.”

I stared at that message for a long time.

One more surprise.

I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

The car arrived — a black sedan Grant had hired for the occasion. He was already inside, wearing a charcoal suit and that devastating smile. When I slid in beside him, he took my hand and kissed it.

“You look incredible,” he said, his eyes traveling over me. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“You keep saying that,” I murmured.

“Because it’s true.”

The restaurant was glowing when we arrived — warm lighting, white tablecloths, the faint sound of a string quartet in the lobby. Grant had spared no expense. He guided me through the entrance with his hand on the small of my back, nodding to the maître d’ who led us toward the private room.

And there, waiting by the door, was Audrey.

She was wearing a soft pink dress — innocent, feminine, perfectly coordinated with mine, just as she’d promised. Her face lit up when she saw me, and she pulled me into a hug.

“You look stunning,” she whispered in my ear.

Over her shoulder, I saw her eyes flick to Grant. Just for a second. A micro-expression — hunger, possession, something dark and quick that vanished before anyone else could catch it.

But I caught it.

I’d been catching it for eighteen months without knowing what I was seeing. Every lingering glance, every unnecessary touch, every time she volunteered to “help Grant in the kitchen” while I entertained guests. It all made sense now.

“You look beautiful too, Aud,” I said, squeezing her hands.

Inside the private room, the table was set for thirty-two. Crystal glasses, white roses, candles casting a golden glow. Both families were already mingling — Grant’s parents chatting with mine, his brother pouring champagne, my college friends clustered near the window.

And there, at the front of the room, was the projection screen.

My heart hammered once. Just once.

Nora appeared beside me, her hand brushing mine. She’d slipped in through the side entrance, as planned. She gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

The USB drive was loaded.

Grant pulled out my chair, ever the gentleman, and I sat. Audrey took the seat two chairs to my left — close enough to watch, far enough to seem appropriate.

Dinner was exquisite. Five courses of food I could barely taste. I smiled, laughed at the right moments, touched Grant’s arm when he leaned in to whisper something. I played the role of adoring wife with the same skill my sister had played the role of loving sibling.

By dessert, Grant stood up, tapping his glass with a knife.

The room quieted.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” he began, his voice warm and confident. “Five years ago, I married the most incredible woman I’ve ever known.”

He looked down at me, and I saw it — the performance. The well-rehearsed tenderness. The eyes that could lie without blinking.

“Elise, you are my everything. My partner, my best friend, my home. Every single day with you has been a gift, and I fall more in love with you with each one.”

Audrey was watching him with glassy eyes, her lips pressed together. I wondered if it hurt her to hear this, or if she’d grown used to sharing.

“To celebrate tonight,” Grant continued, “I’ve put together something special. A look back at our journey together.”

He gestured toward the projection screen and nodded to me with a wink. “Elise helped me put it together.”

He clicked the remote.

The first slide appeared — a photo of us on our wedding day, radiant and young.

The room erupted in soft “awws.”

I took a slow sip of champagne.

Grant clicked again. Our honeymoon in Santorini. More sighs.

He was beaming, soaking in the admiration, completely unaware that in exactly four slides, his entire life was about to collapse.

Click. Our first Christmas.

Click. The trip to Paris.

Click. Audrey’s Instagram post — “My big sister is my best friend. Nobody will ever come between us.”

A few people chuckled warmly. Audrey smiled, tilting her head with practiced modesty.

Grant clicked once more.

And the screen filled with a screenshot of his message to my sister: “I need you tonight. She’s asleep. Leave the back door unlocked.”

The room went dead silent.