Chapter 4 - The Balcony Clip
My father froze mid-stride.
The term Carson acted like a physical barrier. Carson’s father, a senior partner at a massive private equity firm in Manhattan, slowly leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. Carson himself stepped away from Elise, his handsome face suddenly pale.
"What?" Elise whispered, her voice trembling. "What balcony?"
The screen went black for two full seconds. The ambient audio dropped out entirely.
Then, the low, muffled noise of wind and heavy bass music kicked in.
The camera angle was vertical, clearly recorded on an iPhone from a distance through a set of cracked patio doors. The location was unmistakable to anyone who had seen Elise’s social media: the luxury Airbnb in Cabo San Lucas where her bachelorette party had been held four months ago.
Elise was sitting on a outdoor couch, holding a oversized glass filled with pink liquid. Her hair was messy, her slurs heavy. She was talking to two of her bridesmaids, both of whom were sitting at Table 2 tonight, currently staring at the screen with absolute horror.
"I mean, it’s not like I love Carson. Like, LOVE him love him," Elise’s slurred, projected voice bounced off the vaulted ceiling of the vineyard.
The entire ballroom seemed to lose its oxygen.
On screen, Elise took a long sip of her drink and giggled. "He’s nice, whatever. He buys cool stuff. But he’s totally spineless. His dad runs everything anyway. I’m basically setting myself up for life. After dealing with my totally broke, dysfunctional family for twenty-six years? I’ve earned this."
One of the bridesmaids off-camera asked something unintelligible.
Elise waved her hand dismissively on screen. "Ian? Oh my god, don't even get me started on my brother. He’s such a martyr. 'Oh, look at me, I work so hard, I’m so misunderstood.' He’s literally a side character in a movie nobody wants to finish. My parents treat him like absolute trash and he just takes it. It’s hilarious. Honestly, if he didn't come to the wedding, it’d save us a plate."
The video clip ended with Elise blowing a kiss to the camera and taking another gulp of pink wine.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
It was the kind of silence that crushes glass. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.
Carson turned to look at Elise. The color had entirely left his face. "You think I'm spineless?" he asked, his voice dead and quiet, carrying perfectly across the dead air.
"Carson, no! That—that was taken out of context! I was drunk! I was joking!" Elise squeaked, her voice rising an octave as tears instantly burst from her eyes, ruining her five-hundred-dollar wedding makeup. "Ian edited this! He manipulated it!"
"Manipulated what, Elise?" Carson’s father spoke up from the head table, his voice like iron sliding over stone. He stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Did he use AI to generate your voice and your face on a balcony in Cabo?"
"Mr. Vance, please," my dad pleaded, turning around mid-aisle, his hands raised in a desperate gesture of damage control. "It’s a misunderstanding! Ian is... Ian has always had psychological issues! He’s jealous! He’s trying to sabotage his sister!"
"Is that right?" Carson’s father replied coldly, looking down his nose at my dad. "Because it sounds to me like your daughter just admitted on camera that she’s marrying my son for his trust fund, while the rest of your family acts like a bunch of opportunistic grifters."
My mother let out a loud, theatrical sob and collapsed back into her chair, covering her face with her hands.
I sat quietly at Table 19. Toby, the kid sitting next to me, looked up from his mashed potatoes, blinked at the giant screen, and then looked at me.
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"Is your sister in trouble?" Toby asked.
"Yeah, buddy," I whispered back, taking a sip of my water. "I think she is."
