"W-what . . ." she croaked, groggy, confused. "What's going on?"
Her voice echoed off the cold metal walls.
Then she noticed the photos.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of pictures, plastered everywhere. Candid shots. Glamour shots. Paparazzi pics. Screenshots from her wedding livestream. One particularly haunting image of her mid-bite into a bagel.
"Oh hell no," Tabitha muttered, scooting back and scanning the room with wide eyes.
This wasn't just creepy.
This was obsessively curated Pinterest-board levels of creepy.
Her gaze landed on a table across the room. There was a slice of her wedding cake—frozen, perfectly preserved, sitting next to a locket with her initials engraved in glitter glue and what looked suspiciously like . . . was that her eyelash?
She squinted at a handwritten sign above it all.
"For My One True Wife (Version 2.0) ♥"
