Then, my father cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the hall. “Dinner is served. The open bar remains open. And as for the wedding... consider it annulled on grounds of fraud.”
A nervous ripple of laughter broke out, followed by a sudden wave of applause. My uncle Robert walked over, pouring two glasses of vintage champagne, handing one to me and keeping the other for himself.
“To clear vision,” Robert toasted, clinking his glass against mine.
“To clear vision,” I echoed, taking a sip. The champagne was crisp, cold, and tasted like absolute freedom.
Diane tried to sneak out through the side exit, her head bowed, clutching her designer handbag like a shield. But Elena stepped directly into her path, blocking the doorway with a cool, mocking smile.
“Leaving so soon, Diane?” Elena asked sweetly. “Don't you want to stay for dessert? There’s plenty of cake.”
Diane shot us one venomous glare before practically running down the corridor, her high heels clicking frantically against the marble floor.
I looked down at myself. My white silk dress was smeared with pink frosting and red strawberry filling. My lip was swollen, throbbing with a dull, steady ache. But as I touched the cut, I didn't feel broken. I felt alive.
“Claire,” my father said, wheeling himself over to me and taking my hand in his trembling, warm palms. “I am so sorry. I should have seen through him sooner. I let him in because I thought he made you happy.”
“You didn't know, Dad,” I said softly, kneeling down so I was at eye level with him. “None of us did. But we know now.”
“What do you want to do next?” my father asked, his eyes gleaming with sudden pride. “The board meets on Monday. Your name is on the controlling shares. We can dismantle his entire network before the sun comes up.”
I stood up, smoothing down the stained silk of my dress, and smiled.
“Let’s not wait until Monday.”
