Chapter 3: The Secret Behind the Wedding Video
"What happened before she came into the room?""
My father's question was directed at Monique.
She stood beside the television, holding the remote so tightly that her knuckles had turned pale.
"Nothing," she replied.
Darius slowly rose from his chair.
"Then why did you say that?""
"I meant the recording might be misleading.""
"How?""
She looked around at the guests.
"Can we please stop doing this in front of everybody?""
Rochelle shook her head.
"You didn't mind doing it in front of everybody when you accused Jada.""
Monique's eyes narrowed.
"Rochelle, you have hated me from the beginning.""
"I don't hate you. I just don't believe you.""
"Of course you don't.""
Darius extended his hand.
"Give Malik the remote.""
Monique hesitated.
Then she placed it on the table.
Malik resumed the recording.
The screen showed Monique entering the reception area.
She walked toward the drinks table, looked around, and picked up a glass of red wine.
Then she approached my mother's chair.
The camera angle was wide enough to capture everything.
My hand was visible.
It rested against the back of the chair.
I wasn't holding anything.
Monique looked at me.
I spoke.
"That seat is reserved for my mother.""
Then came the wine.
The camera captured her wrist turning.
It captured the liquid spilling across her jacket.
It captured her setting the glass down.
And it captured the moment she screamed for my father.
The room was silent.
Darius watched the screen without blinking.
When the recording reached the slap, his face changed.
He saw himself enter.
He saw Monique step behind him.
He saw his own hand strike my face.
He watched me stumble.
Then he heard my voice.
"She poured it on herself.""
The video continued for several seconds.
Monique stood behind him.
No tears.
No panic.
Just a smile.
The kind of smile someone wears after getting exactly what they wanted.
My father looked away from the television.
He turned toward his wife.
"Why?""
Monique opened her mouth.
"Baby—"
"Why did you pour wine on yourself?""
She shook her head.
"I was upset.""
"Why did you tell me Jada threw it?""
"I didn't think you would react like that.""
My father's eyebrows pulled together.
"That's your explanation?""
Monique looked at me.
"She has been trying to push me out of this family for years!""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"You heard me.""
I took one step forward.
"I have never tried to push you out.""
"You never accepted me.""
"I was polite to you.""
"You called me your father's wife instead of your stepmother!""
"Because you're not my mother.""
The words came out before I could stop them.
Monique's expression darkened.
"Exactly.""
I looked at her.
"My mother died. I didn't replace her. That's not something I owe you.""
Rochelle quietly nodded.
My father sat down again.
"Monique, this has gone far enough.""
She turned toward him.
"So now you're going to humiliate me in front of your entire family?""
Darius looked at the screen.
"You're the one who created this.""
She shook her head.
"No. Jada created this. She has always wanted you to feel guilty for moving on.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
There it was.
The accusation she had used for years.
When I asked my father to visit my mother's grave, Monique said I was refusing to accept their marriage.
When I wanted to keep my mother's old Christmas ornaments, Monique called me sentimental.
When I asked Dad to attend my college graduation without bringing her, she accused me of trying to divide them.
She had turned every memory of my mother into a competition.
And my father had spent years avoiding the arguments by telling me to be patient.
I was tired of being patient.
"Do you know what I wanted today?"" I asked.
Monique rolled her eyes.
"Not another speech.""
"I wanted my father to walk me down the aisle.""
I looked at Darius.
"I wanted him to hold my hand and tell me my mother would have been proud. I wanted one picture with both of us before the ceremony.""
My voice cracked.
"Instead, you hit me because your wife lied.""
My father lowered his eyes.
I continued.
"And the worst part is that you didn't even ask me what happened.""
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Monique stepped forward.
"Jada, you're exaggerating.""
I turned toward her.
"Don't speak to me.""
She looked offended.
"Excuse me?""
"I said don't speak to me.""
My father finally stood.
"That's enough, Monique.""
She stared at him.
"You're defending her again?""
"I'm asking you to stop.""
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Monique did something unexpected.
She began laughing.
Not loudly.
Just a short, bitter laugh.
"You really think this is about a chair?""
My father frowned.
"What does that mean?""
She looked at me.
"You want the truth? Fine.""
She walked toward the memorial chair and picked up the framed photograph.
Rochelle immediately stepped forward.
"Put that down.""
Monique ignored her.
She studied my mother's smiling face.
"Your mother has been dead for four years, Jada. And somehow, she still controls every room she walks into.""
"Put the picture down," I said.
Monique turned the frame toward me.
"Your father can't make one decision without worrying about what Denise would have thought.""
Darius stepped forward.
"Enough.""
But Monique wasn't finished.
"Do you know how exhausting it is to live in a house where everything belongs to another woman? Her photographs. Her furniture.
Her recipes. Her stupid garden.""
I felt my hands begin to shake.
"Those are my mother's things.""
"And your father bought me a house where I was supposed to build a life with him, not live inside a museum!""
Darius went completely still.
"Monique.""
She turned toward him.
"What?""
"Put the photograph down.""
Her fingers tightened around the frame.
Then she said something that made the entire room fall silent.
"I only needed you to believe me long enough to get rid of her.""
My father stared at her.
"Get rid of who?""
Monique looked at me.
"Jada.""
My stomach dropped.
"What are you talking about?""
She set the photograph down on the table.
Then she reached into her purse.
"I wasn't planning to tell you this today," she said, "but since everyone wants to pretend I'm the villain, perhaps your daughter should explain why I was so desperate to make sure she couldn't interfere with our marriage anymore.""
She pulled out a folded document.
My father frowned.
"What is that?""
Monique held it against her chest.
"Something Darius and I discussed months ago.""
I looked at my father.
He looked genuinely confused.
"Monique, what document?""
She unfolded it and placed it on the table.
I saw my name.
JADA DENISE CARTER.
Beneath it was a signature that looked remarkably like mine.
My blood ran cold.
I stepped closer.
"What is that?""
Monique smiled without warmth.
"An agreement transferring your mother's property.""
I looked at my father.
"What property?""
He stared at the paper.
Then his face drained of color.
Because beneath my name was the address of the house my mother had left me.
And next to the signature was my father's name.
He whispered, "Monique... where did you get this?""
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked directly at me.
"Ask your father why he never told you about the house.""
May you like
My father slowly reached for the document.
And I realized that the wine, the slap, and the wedding chair might have been only the beginning of what Monique had planned.
