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I crossed the room slowly and turned to face him.
“What? Why?” he blinked again.
“Because I’m asking nicely,” I said, still steady.
He hesitated, then slowly shrugged out of the jacket. I stepped forward and examined the shoulder seam of his crisp white shirt.
And there it was.
A lipstick print, like Natalie had said. It wasn’t just a smudge, it was a perfect kiss mark. Bold, deep red, and right on the fabric like it had been sealed there with intention.
The edges were blurred slightly, like someone had tried to rub it off but the stain clung stubbornly.
“Where did this come from?” I pointed directly at it.
He froze.
“Richard?” I asked.
“It’s nothing,” he said too quickly. “It was probably my mom, she kissed me earlier when I walked in.”
I stared at him, the blatant lie tearing me apart.
“Your mom wears pale pink lipstick. She always has, Richard,” I said simply. “This isn’t soft pink, this is wine red. Drama red.”
He said nothing.
I nodded once, walked past him, and returned to the ballroom. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t even tell anyone what had just happened.
Instead, I found my sister, Melody and leaned in close.
“I need you to help me with something, Mel,” I whispered. “Now.”
She looked confused for a moment, then her expression sharpened.
“What kind of something, Grace?” she smiled softly.
“Just trust me,” I said. “We’re going to play a little game.”
I quickly told her about Richard, Natalie, and the lipstick stain.
“I need to know… help me,” I sighed.