Chapter 4 - A Wedding to Remember
Saint Bartholomew’s Chapel was adorned with thousands of white orchids. The scent was suffocating, reminiscent of funeral parlors. The pews were packed with the city’s elite: politicians, socialites, banking executives, and real estate moguls.
When I stepped through the heavy oak doors, the murmurs near the back immediately died down. Heads turned. Whispers rippled through the congregation like a sudden gust of wind over a calm lake.
Isn't that his ex-wife? What is she doing here? She looks... different.
I ignored them all. I kept my chin high, my posture impeccable, walking slowly down the center aisle with Elena right beside me. The string quartet was playing softly, but the music seemed to fade away as I locked eyes with the man at the front of the room.
Adrian stood at the altar, looking devastatingly handsome in a custom black tuxedo. When he saw me, a flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by a deeply satisfied, arrogant smirk. He thought he had won. He thought I was here to beg, to cry, to make a fool of myself.
Vanessa, standing beside him in a gown bursting with tulle and unnecessary diamonds, scowled. She whispered something sharply to Adrian, but he waved her off, stepping forward as I reached the front row.
The priest looked confused, pausing his sermon. The silence in the chapel was absolute.
"Still desperate for my attention?" Adrian mocked, his voice carrying perfectly in the quiet, echoing chamber. He leaned down slightly, treating me like a misbehaving child. "I told you to come see a real wife, but I didn't think you'd actually have the stomach for it. Security can show you out before you embarrass yourself further."
I didn't blink. I didn't shrink. I simply reached into my crimson clutch and pressed the play button on the remote.
A split second later, the chapel’s hidden acoustic speakers crackled to life.
It was my voice, trembling, echoing loudly off the stained glass windows. “Please, Adrian, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”
Then came the sickening CRACK of a heavy slap. The sound made several women in the front row gasp out loud.
Then, Adrian’s voice filled the room. Cold, vicious, and utterly devoid of his charming public facade. “You’re pathetic. Do you think anyone would ever believe you? I own this city. I own you. Now clean up your face before the guests arrive, you stupid bitch.”
Adrian’s face drained of color. The smirk vanished, replaced by sheer, naked panic. "Turn that off!" he roared, lunging toward me.
But Elena stepped neatly in his path, holding up a hand. "I wouldn't do that, Mr. Vale."
Before he could push past her, I pressed another button. The audio skipped to a different recording.
“The feds are too stupid to look at the charity ledgers,” Adrian’s recorded voice boasted, accompanied by the clinking of a whiskey glass. “I routed three million from the housing grants through the Cayman shell yesterday. It’s untouchable. And if that useless wife of mine ever looks at the books, I’ll break her jaw.”
The chapel erupted into chaos. Men shouted. Vanessa screamed, backing away from Adrian as if he had caught fire.
At the back of the church, the heavy oak doors banged open. Agent Harris, flanked by six uniformed police officers and federal agents, marched swiftly down the aisle.
When the police snapped the heavy steel cuffs around Adrian’s wrists, pulling his arms violently behind his back, he looked at me. His eyes were wide with a terror I had only ever felt myself.
May you like
I walked up the altar steps, my heels clicking sharply against the marble. I leaned in close to his ear, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore.
"Darling," I whispered, my voice steady and cold. "This is only the first recording."
