Chapter 7 - The Toast of Truth
I tapped the microphone.
The sharp sound echoed through the massive ballroom, silencing the murmurs instantly.
Three hundred faces looked up at me.
Jackson looked nervous. Natalie looked smug.
"Good evening," I began, my voice projecting with crystal clarity.
"Weddings are a time of new beginnings. A time of truth, and of merging families."
I paused, making direct eye contact with Natalie.
Her smile faltered just a fraction.
"My late husband, Frank, and I built this family on a foundation of honesty."
"We also built a fortune. And as many of you know, it has always been my intention to gift my son his inheritance on the occasion of his marriage."
A low murmur of excitement rippled through the crowd.
"One hundred and twenty million dollars," I stated clearly.
Natalie’s eyes widened with greed. She couldn't help herself; she practically vibrated with excitement in her chair.
"However," I continued, my tone dropping a decibel, "a gift of that magnitude requires absolute trust."
I reached into my small silk purse and pulled out the thick, folded cardstock.
"This morning, I woke up to find my beautiful custom dress shredded to pieces."
The crowd gasped. Jackson frowned in confusion.
"I also woke up to find that I had been assaulted in my sleep. My head was completely shaved."
Gasps echoed loudly now. People whispered in shock.
"And left on my nightstand was this lovely note from the bride."
Natalie’s face drained of all color. She went sheet white.
"It reads: 'Now you finally have the look that suits you, you ridiculous old woman.'"
I held the note up for the nearest tables to see the elegant, looping handwriting.
"Lies!" Natalie shrieked, jumping to her feet. "She's insane! Jackson, tell them she's crazy!"
Before Jackson could speak, young David, the waiter, stepped out from the kitchen doors.
"She's not lying!" David shouted over the crowd.
"I heard the bride bragging about it! She said she was going to lock Mrs. Westbrook in a mental asylum and take her money!"
The ballroom erupted into chaos.
Jackson stood up, looking back and forth between me, David, and the terrified Natalie.
The veil had finally lifted from his eyes.
He looked at Natalie, and for the first time, he saw the monster hiding behind the pretty face.
"Is it true?" Jackson asked her, his voice cracking.
"Jackson, no! They're conspiring against me!" she sobbed, grabbing his arm.
He looked down at her hands, then spotted my stolen emerald ring on her right index finger—a detail I had missed earlier.
He ripped his arm away from her grasp as if she were made of fire.
I leaned back into the microphone.
"As for the one hundred twenty million dollars," I announced, raising my voice over the din.
My financial adviser, Arthur, stepped forward from the back of the room, holding up a signed document.
"The transfer has been permanently canceled," I declared.
"Natalie, you are marrying a wonderful man today. But you are not marrying his bank account."
"You get nothing from me. Not today, not ever."
Natalie let out a horrifying, visceral scream of pure rage.
The mask was completely gone, replaced by the ugly, snarling face of a defeated predator.
She grabbed a champagne flute and hurled it at the wall, screaming profanities that made the older guests cover their ears.
Jackson stared at her, horrified, realizing he had just married a stranger.
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I set the microphone down on the stand.
My toast was finished.
