The package was, surprisingly, from Marlon Marshall.
Jean Grant scrambled to pick it up, her heart pounding with panic.
Inside was a single sheet of white paper with one sentence written in a bold, flourishing script.
The words were simple, yet they struck her heart like a death blow.
It read: I've been released from prison over seven months early. Wait for me.
"Mom, Marlon's out of prison!"
Mrs. Grant heard this and looked skeptical. "But wasn't he supposed to be in for several more months?"
"I don't know, I don't know!"
Mrs. Grant took the paper from her daughter's hand, read it, and frowned. "Maybe he found out you're getting married and is just trying to scare you."
Jean Grant sank onto the sofa. "Mom, we have to have security in place tomorrow. We can't let him get anywhere near me."
"It's okay. You'll be leaving from our house, not a photo studio. I'll hire extra people."
Even so, Jean Grant couldn't shake her unease.
