BRIDESMAIDS, BRIDE, BADASS

CHAPTER THREE: THE TEA SET

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Vance Penthouse | Dallas | 7:02 AM, Two Days After The Engagement Party

The mint tea is waiting on the tray.

Steam curling. Green ceramic. Silver spoon. Same as it was in my past life. Same as it was on the night I died.

Marcus sets it on the bedside table with a smile that’s practiced to perfection. “For your nerves, my love. You’ve been restless since the party.”

Restless. That’s one word for it.

I haven’t slept more than three hours since I woke up three months in the past. Every time I close my eyes, I see marble floors and Lila’s heel on my hand and Marcus’s cold smile.

I sit up in bed. Silk robe. Hair loose. Perfect bride aesthetic. Perfect lie.

“Thank you,” I say. My voice is soft. Sweet. Deadly. “You’re too good to me.”

Marcus leans down and kisses my forehead. His lips are warm. His hands are steady. The hands that held Lila’s while I choked on poison six years from now.

“I only want what’s best for you, Elena,” he says.

I watch him walk out and close the door behind him.

The second the lock clicks, my expression changes.

The smile drops. The shoulders straighten. The hands stop trembling.

I stare at the tea.

In my past life, I drank it at 8:47 AM. I was dead by 9:42.

This time, I don’t touch it.

Instead, I pour it into the empty flower vase on the nightstand. The liquid is a pale, sickly green. It smells like mint and something bitter underneath. Something chemical. Something that burns.

I set the vase down and pick up the water pitcher from the tray. Clear. Clean. Safe.

I pour water into the cup.

Same color. Same steam. Same presentation.

Marcus won’t know the difference. Lila won’t know the difference.

But my body will.

I take a sip. Water. Room temperature. No rust. No burn. No death.

I exhale for the first time in two days.

Step one: survive breakfast.

The plan is simple. Play the perfect fiancée. Drink the “tea.” Smile. Make small talk. Let them think they’ve already won.

The plan is also stupid. Because if I drink it, I die. Again.

So I don’t. I swap it.

Now I wait.

Step two: watch Lila.

Lila arrives at 9:00 AM like clockwork. Blush pink dress. Fresh manicure. Gift basket with pastries and a card that says To My Beautiful Bride-To-Be.

She’s glowing. Happy. Excited.

Or she’s acting.

“Good morning!” she chirps, setting the basket down. “How did you sleep?”

“Terribly,” I say. I rub my eyes for effect. “Nightmares.”

Lila’s face softens. Concern. Care. The mask is flawless. “Oh no. About the wedding?”

“About everything,” I say vaguely. I pick up the tea cup and take a sip. Water. I make sure to let out a small sigh of relief. “The tea helped.”

Lila’s eyes flick to the vase. Then back to me.

She doesn’t say anything. But I see it. The slight tightening around her lips. The almost imperceptible shift in her posture.

She knows.

She knows I didn’t drink the poison.

She just doesn’t know how I know.

“Good,” she says. Too quickly. “I’m glad.”

We sit and talk about flowers and seating charts and color schemes. Lila does most of the talking. I nod. I smile. I ask the right questions. I play the role of the overwhelmed bride perfectly.

But my eyes never leave her hands.

Her left hand is shaking. Slightly. Almost invisible.

She’s nervous.

Good. She should be.

Step three: dinner with Marcus.

Dinner is at 7:00 PM. Private. Just us. In the penthouse dining room. Candlelight. String quartet playing softly in the background.

Marcus loves a scene. He loves control. He loves making everything look perfect for the cameras.

The menu is my favorite. Salmon. Asparagus. Lemon risotto. And mint tea for after.

I don’t touch the tea.

Marcus notices.

“You didn’t drink it,” he says halfway through the meal. His voice is casual. Too casual.

“I had a headache earlier,” I say. I press my fingers to my temple. “The tea makes it worse.”

Marcus’s jaw tightens. Just for a second. “I see.”

He doesn’t push. Not yet.

We finish dinner. We talk about the foundation. We talk about the honeymoon in Aruba. We talk about the guest list.

It’s all normal. All perfect. All a lie.

After dinner, Marcus walks me to the door of my room. He kisses my cheek. Chaste. Public. Safe.

“Sleep well, Elena,” he says.

“You too, Marcus.”

I close the door and lock it.

Then I lean against it and let out the breath I’ve been holding all night.

I did it. I survived another day.

But Lila knows. And Marcus is suspicious.

I have to move faster now.

Step four: the audit.

Adrian is coming tomorrow at 10:00 AM to present his initial findings on the foundation audit. Marcus invited him for dinner tonight to “discuss preliminary results.”

I wasn’t supposed to be there. Marcus said it would be “too boring for you, my love.”

I’m going to be there.

I call Adrian at 8:30 PM.

He answers on the second ring. “Elena.”

“You’re coming tomorrow,” I say. No greeting. No small talk.

“Yes.” His voice is careful. “Marcus asked me to present at dinner.”

“Don’t eat anything,” I say. “Don’t drink anything.”

There’s a pause. “Are you alright?”

“No,” I say honestly. “But I will be.”

Another pause. Longer this time. “What’s going on, Elena?”

I look at the photos on my phone. The insurance policy. The offshore transfers. Lila’s signature.

“Something’s wrong with the foundation,” I say. “Something’s very wrong with Marcus.”

Adrian doesn’t respond for a long time. When he does, his voice is quiet. Serious. “I’ll be there at 9:30. We’ll talk before dinner.”

“Good,” I say. “And Adrian?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He hangs up without saying anything else.

I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the locked door.

Tomorrow is the first real move.

Tomorrow is when I start dismantling Marcus.

Tomorrow is when I start becoming the badass.

Step five: the confrontation.

The next morning comes too fast.

Adrian arrives at 9:30 AM, exactly as he said. He’s in a charcoal suit. No tie. Folder under his arm. Eyes sharp.

He doesn’t look at me like Marcus does. Like I’m a possession. He looks at me like I’m a person. Like I’m capable. Like I’m dangerous.

And I like it.

We meet in the small library off the kitchen. Door closed. No cameras. No listening devices. I checked. Twice.

“Show me,” I say without preamble.

Adrian opens the folder. He lays out the spreadsheets. The bank statements. The transfer logs.

“There are 14 unauthorized transfers from the Vance Foundation to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands,” he says. “Totaling 38.7 million over the last 24 months.”

I nod. I already know. But hearing him say it out loud makes it real. Makes it criminal.

“The signature on these transfers…” he pauses. “It matches Lila Chen’s.”

I close my eyes. Of course it does.

Lila was always the one who handled the charity paperwork. I trusted her. I gave her access. I gave her power.

And she used it to help Marcus steal my family’s money.

“She’s been diverting funds to a shell company called Chen Holdings,” Adrian continues. “Which then transfers to an account under Marcus Thorne’s name in Monaco.”

I open my eyes. “And the insurance policy?”

Adrian’s gaze sharpens. “What insurance policy?”

I pull out my phone. I show him the photos.

He goes silent. His jaw tightens. His hands clench into fists.

“This is a murder contract, Elena,” he says quietly. “Disguised as life insurance.”

“I know,” I say.

Adrian looks at me. Really looks. “How do you know?”

I meet his gaze. I don’t look away. “Because I’ve seen it before.”

He doesn’t ask what I mean. He doesn’t push. He just nods once. Like he believes me. Like he’s not questioning my sanity.

That’s why I trust him. Even though I shouldn’t. Even though I swore I wouldn’t trust anyone again.

“What do we do?” I ask.

“We build a case,” Adrian says. “We document everything. We get a forensic accountant to verify the transfers. We go to the police.”

“The police won’t believe me,” I say. “Marcus is connected. He has lawyers. He has money. He has influence.”

“Then we go public,” Adrian says. “We leak it to the press. We ruin him socially and financially before he can hurt you.”

I think about it. About the risk. About the exposure. About the possibility that Marcus will move up his timeline if he feels cornered.

“Do it,” I say. “But not yet. Not until I have more.”

Adrian nods. “What more do you need?”

“I need to know who else is involved,” I say. “I need to know if there’s anyone else I can’t trust.”

Adrian’s expression softens. Just slightly. “You can trust me, Elena.”

I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him. But trust got me killed once.

“I’ll consider it,” I say.

Adrian smiles. Small. Real. “Fair enough.”

Step six: the mistake.

Dinner is at 7:00 PM.

Marcus. Adrian. Me.

Candlelight. Wine. Salmon.

Marcus is charming. Attentive. The perfect host. He asks Adrian about his background. His education. His experience.

Adrian answers politely. Professionally. He doesn’t mention the audit. He doesn’t mention the discrepancies. He doesn’t mention the insurance policy.

He’s good. He’s playing the game.

I’m playing too.

I laugh at Marcus’s jokes. I ask Adrian about his favorite restaurant in Dallas. I make small talk about the weather.

It’s all normal. All perfect. All a lie.

Halfway through the meal, Lila arrives. Uninvited.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says, smiling sweetly. “I forgot my scarf.”

She’s lying. She never wears scarves.

Marcus stands up and kisses her cheek. “Lila. You should have stayed for dinner.”

“I didn’t want to intrude,” she says. Her eyes flick to me. Then to Adrian. “But I saw Elena’s car in the driveway. I thought I’d say hi.”

She sits down without being asked.

The tension in the room shifts. Immediately.

Adrian’s posture straightens. Marcus’s smile tightens. My hands clench under the table.

Lila looks at the tea set on the table. The mint tea. Untouched.

She looks at me.

Her eyes narrow.

“You didn’t drink it,” she says.

The words hang in the air like a gunshot.

Marcus goes still.

Adrian looks between us, confused.

I don’t flinch. I don’t deny it. I don’t explain.

I just smile.

“What?” I ask innocently. “The tea gives me headaches.”

Lila’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “You loved mint tea, Elena. Since college.”

“I’ve changed,” I say simply.

Lila’s jaw clenches. She knows. She knows I know.

Marcus finally speaks. “Lila, maybe you should go. We’re in the middle of business.”

Lila stands up. She kisses Marcus’s cheek. She looks at me one last time.

Her eyes are no longer sweet. They’re cold. Calculating. Dangerous.

“She’s not the same Elena,” Lila whispers to Marcus as she leaves.

Marcus doesn’t respond. He just watches me.

Adrian watches me too.

The room is silent except for the string quartet in the background.

I pick up my fork and cut into my salmon like nothing happened.

“Shall we continue?” I ask lightly.

Marcus forces a smile. “Yes. Of course.”

Adrian doesn’t say anything. But his eyes never leave me for the rest of the night.

Step seven: the message.

After dinner, Adrian walks me to my door.

Marcus went to his office. Lila is gone. The house is quiet again.

“Be careful,” Adrian says quietly. “Lila knows you’re different.”

“I know,” I say.

Adrian hesitates. Then he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is gentle. Unexpected.

“Elena,” he says. “If you ever feel like you’re in danger… call me. Anytime. Day or night.”

I look at his hand. At his face. At the concern in his eyes.

In my past life, he said the same thing to me two days before he died.

I nod. “I will.”

Adrian leaves.

I close the door and lock it.

I lean against it and close my eyes.

I did it. I survived dinner. I survived Lila’s suspicion. I survived Marcus’s scrutiny.

But the game has changed now.

Lila knows I’m not the same.

Marcus knows something is off.

And Adrian… Adrian is getting too close.

I can’t let him get too close. Not yet. Not until I’m sure he won’t betray me like everyone else.

I go to my desk and open my laptop.

I pull up the security footage from tonight.

I rewind.

I watch Lila’s face when she realizes I didn’t drink the tea.

I watch Marcus’s face when Lila whispers to him.

I watch Adrian’s face when he looks at me.

Concern. Confusion. Curiosity.

And something else. Something I can’t name yet.

I close the laptop.

I go to bed.

But I don’t sleep.

Because for the first time in two lives… I feel like I’m finally awake.

At 3:17 AM, my phone buzzes.

Unknown number.

Stop playing with fire, Elena. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.

- M

I delete the text.

But I don’t delete the number.

Because now I know for sure.

Marcus knows I’m different.

And he’s watching.

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