The bridal suite was filled with white roses. The scent was cloying, almost suffocating.

Sitting on the velvet sofa, legs crossed, was Doria Roy.

She was wearing the maid-of-honor dress, a pale pink creation that clashed with her sharp features. When Janey entered, Doria jumped up, her face arranging itself into a bright, plastic smile.

"Janey! Oh my god, look at you. You look like an angel."

She rushed forward, enveloping Janey in a hug. Perfume-Chanel No. 5, too much of it-assaulted Janey's nose.

Janey stood rigid. In her last life, she had hugged back. She had cried on this shoulder.

"Hello, Doria," Janey said.

Doria pulled back, keeping her hands on Janey's shoulders. Her eyes were wide, feigning concern.

"I can't believe Daddy is making you do this. Marrying that... monster. You must be terrified."

"It's for the family," Janey said, reciting the line she was expected to say. "I don't have a choice."

Doria's eyes gleamed. She guided Janey to the sofa.

"Listen to me," Doria whispered, conspiring. "I have a way out for you."

She reached into her clutch and pulled out a small, clear vial of liquid.

"This is a sedative," Doria said. "It's mild. Just enough to make him groggy. Carter set it up."

Janey looked at the vial.

"Carter?" she asked, injecting a tremor into her voice.

"Yes," Doria nodded eagerly. "If Austin passes out or gets sick right after the wedding, the stock will tank. The board will intervene. The prenup will be voided. You can leave, Janey. With the money."

It wasn't a sedative. It was a potent hallucinogen mixed with a muscle relaxant. In her past life, Doria had spiked Janey's drink with it, then claimed Janey was a drug addict unfit to be a Walton wife.

"But..." Janey bit her lip. "What about the cameras?"

"The VIP Suite has no cameras," Doria lied smoothly. "Carter will meet you there. He's going to take you away. He loves you, Janey."

Janey took the vial. Her fingers brushed Doria's.

"Okay," Janey whispered. "I'll do it."

Doria let out a breath, her triumph almost visible. She turned to the table where a bottle of champagne sat in an ice bucket.

"To freedom," Doria said, popping the cork.

Janey watched her pour two glasses. She knew Doria had already prepped the bottle.

As Doria turned around with the glasses, Janey stood up abruptly. Her elbow knocked into the open bottle on the table.

Ideally, it would have tipped. Instead, Janey grabbed it, feigning a fumble, and splashed a generous amount of the foaming liquid all over the front of Doria's dress.

"Oh my god!" Janey gasped. "I'm so sorry! My hands are shaking!"

Doria shrieked, jumping back. "You idiot! This is silk!"

"I'll get club soda!" Janey cried.

"No, just... stay there!" Doria snarled, her mask slipping. "I have to go to the bathroom. Don't touch anything!"

Doria grabbed her clutch and ran into the ensuite bathroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, Janey's face went blank.

She moved with terrifying speed.

She didn't have a phone; Austin had taken it. But she had memory. She uncorked the vial Doria had given her. She poured the entire contents into the glass of champagne Doria had poured for herself. She swirled it gently.

The toilet flushed.

Janey picked up the two glasses.

Doria emerged, dabbing at her dress with a wet towel, looking furious.

Janey held out the glass. The drugged one.

"Sister," Janey said, her voice trembling with fake emotion. "Thank you for saving me. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Doria looked at the glass, then at Janey's pathetic expression. She sneered internally.

"Cheers, Janey," Doria said.

She took the glass. She drank.

Doria finished the champagne in two large gulps. She set the glass down hard.

"I'm going to the VIP Suite to... prepare things," Doria said. She fanned herself with her hand. "Is it hot in here?"

The drug was fast.

"Go," Janey said softly. "I'll come as soon as the ceremony is over."

Doria nodded, her eyes already looking a little glassy. She grabbed her purse and swayed slightly as she walked to the door.

"Don't be late," Doria slurred slightly, then giggled. "Or Carter will get impatient."

She left.

Janey walked to the door and locked it.

She found a hotel notepad and a pen on the desk. She needed an outside line, a trusted one. She scribbled a number from memory and a short, coded message.

She opened the door just a crack. A junior staffer was rushing by.

"Excuse me," Janey said, her voice urgent but low. "Can you get this to Vivian Roy? It's an emergency regarding the floral arrangement." She pressed a folded hundred-dollar bill from the emergency cash sewn into her gown into the staffer's hand along with the note. "Immediately."

The staffer, wide-eyed at the cash, nodded and scurried away.

Janey closed the door. She breathed. The message was simple: V. VIP Suite cam. Diagnostic window @ ceremony start. Switch source. For Mom.

"Aunt Vivian?" she whispered to the empty room. "Please."

She knew from her past life that Vivian, the outcast of the Roy family, was the only one who had ever shown her kindness. She also knew Vivian had been an A/V club nerd in college. And she knew the Walton estate's security system had a sixty-second diagnostic loophole that ran like clockwork at the start of any major event, temporarily unencrypting the internal feeds. A flaw Austin would never admit to.

This wasn't hacking. It was exploiting a known variable.

A knock on the door.

"Miss Roy? It's time."

Janey took a deep breath. She checked her lipstick.

She opened the door.

Marcus was waiting. He offered his arm, looking impatient.

"Don't trip," he muttered. "And smile. You're worth five billion dollars today."

Janey took his arm. Her nails dug into the fabric of his expensive suit, hard enough to pierce.

"Don't worry, Father," she said. "This is going to be a wedding no one will ever forget."

The organ music swelled. The heavy oak doors of the chapel swung open.

The aisle stretched out before her, lined with hundreds of people who didn't care if she lived or died.

At the end of it stood Austin.

He looked impeccable. Powerful. Cold.

He watched her approach. His eyes locked onto hers.

Janey didn't look down. She held his gaze.

She gave a microscopic nod.

Austin's eyebrows twitched. He saw the signal.

The game was on.

Janey reached the altar. Marcus practically shoved her hand into Austin's.

Austin's hand was dry and cool. As his fingers closed around hers, he leaned in, ostensibly to kiss her cheek.

"Is it done?" he murmured against her skin.

"Watch the screens," Janey breathed back.

They separated. They turned to face the officiant.

"Dearly beloved," the priest began, his voice booming through the acoustics of the cathedral-style ballroom. "We are gathered here today to unite these two families..."

Janey stared straight ahead. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, but her face was a mask of serene devotion.

She counted the seconds.

One. Two. Three.

The officiant droned on about unity and legacy. The guests shifted in their seats.

"And now," the priest said, gesturing to the massive LED screens flanking the altar, "let us look back at the journey that brought us here."

The lights dimmed.

The screens flickered to life.

For a moment, it was a montage of childhood photos. A young Austin. A young Doria (with Janey's face expertly photoshopped in for public consumption). Polite applause rippled through the crowd.

Then, the image distorted. Static cut across the smiling faces.

The feed switched.

The resolution was grainy, a security camera angle, high up in a corner. But the picture was clear enough.

It was a bedroom. The VIP Suite.

Two figures were on the bed.

A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.

The woman was on top, her pink maid-of-honor dress torn at the shoulder. She was frantic, her movements wild and uncoordinated.

"Doria?" someone whispered in the front row.

The man beneath her turned his face to the side.

Carter Hayes.

He was laughing, gripping Doria's hips, but he was looking at the door, shouting something.

The audio feed kicked in with a screech of feedback.

"Babe!" Carter's voice boomed through the wedding speakers. "Your sister is all over me! You better get up here!"

Silence. Absolute, dead silence.

Doria, delirious, grabbed Carter's face. "Austin... just sign the papers... give me the money..."

The crowd erupted.

Marcus Roy dropped his champagne glass. It shattered, the sound like a gunshot. His face drained of all blood.

Helene Roy, Doria's mother, stood up and screamed. "Turn it off! Turn it off!"

She scrambled toward the A/V booth, but the door was locked. Vivian had done her job.

On the screen, Doria was kissing Carter, mumbling about the stock price and the prenup.

Austin stood perfectly still. He looked up at the screen, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to look at Janey.

Janey brought her hands to her mouth. She widened her eyes. She took a stumbling step back.

"Doria?" she cried out, her voice breaking perfectly. "Carter? How could they?"

She looked like a woman whose heart had just been ripped out.

Austin caught her arm, steadying her. His grip was firm. He looked into her eyes and saw the calculation behind the tears.

He stepped up to the microphone.

"It seems," Austin said, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade, "that the Roy family has provided a very specific dowry."

He looked out at the horrified board members, the gleeful press, the ruined Roys.

"Cut the feed," he ordered calmly.

The screens went black.

But the damage was nuclear.