Chapter 7 - The Unraveling
A confused murmur swept through the four hundred guests in the sanctuary. People leaned forward in their pews, whispering behind their program cards.
"Adrian, what are you doing?" Celeste hissed, stepping closer, her knuckles white as she gripped her bouquet. "Put that away! People are watching!"
Victor stepped onto the altar platform, his face dark with fury. "Adrian, stop this foolishness right now! You’re ruining her moment!"
I ignored them both. I turned toward the grand stained-glass window behind the altar, where two massive seventy-inch digital display screens—normally used to show ceremonial imagery—flickered.
Instantly, the live video feed switched.
The romantic slideshow of our relationship was replaced by high-definition, scanned documents of the March 14th estate deed transfer. Red digital overlays highlighted the forged signature of my name alongside the official notary seal.
Gasps erupted across the congregation.
"What is that?!" a prominent board member shouted from the front row. "That’s the Hale Enterprise master charter!"
Before Victor could react, the screen shifted again. A massive spreadsheet illuminated the sanctuary, displaying line-by-line wire transfers from Hale Enterprises directly into Vela Events. Bank account numbers, offshore shell company registrations, and Victor Vance’s personal signature on cash withdrawal slips were projected ten feet tall for every politician, judge, and journalist in the room to see.
Celeste looked at the screens, her jaw dropping in sheer terror. "No... no, turn it off! Turn it off right now!" she screamed, spinning around toward the sound booth.
"And finally," I said, my voice echoing over her screams, "we have the testimony of the witness."
The screen flickered one last time, displaying a high-resolution photo taken three days ago in my kitchen: Celeste tilting the Bordeaux wine bottle over the marble floor, while Inés scrubbed on her knees, accompanied by an audio recording from my kitchen security feed.
Celeste’s voice echoed loudly through the cathedral speakers: “Scrub it again. That’s what we pay you for.”
The silence that followed in the sanctuary was absolute. It was a heavy, suffocating silence borne of total moral disgust. The high-society guests who had praised Celeste minutes earlier now stared at her with horrified contempt.
Celeste turned back to me, her eyes wild, her veil disheveled. "Adrian... please! It’s not what it looks like! Victor made me do it! He forced me!"
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"You betrayed my home, Celeste," I said coldly, stepping back from her outstretched hands. "You forged my father’s legacy. And you humiliated a woman whose shoe latchets you aren't worthy to untie."
I turned toward the third row, pointing directly at Inés. "That notebook belongs to her. And every single word inside it is true."
