The reception is loud enough to hide almost any conversation.

You are standing near the edge of the ballroom when a woman approaches, holding a photograph between both hands.

"Please don't make a scene," she says quietly. "I'm not here to embarrass you."

She turns the photograph around.

It shows you—or someone who looks exactly like you—standing beside a person whose face has been carefully scratched out.

"My name is Vivian. I was told to find you tonight."

Her eyes flick toward the bride's family before returning to yours.

"The person who gave me this photo said you would remember the night it was taken."

Vivian lowers her voice.

"But judging by your expression, I may have been lied to."