At the altar, Julian stood tall in a tailored tuxedo, his chest puffed out with the arrogant pride of a man who believed he had won at life. But as his gaze locked onto me, his smile faltered. His eyes dropped to the bundle in my arms, and for a fraction of a second, absolute confusion crossed his face. Then, his features twisted into an ugly, dark sneer.
He didn’t wait for me to find a seat. He stepped down from the altar, ignoring the bewildered look from the priest, and intercepted me halfway down the aisle.
“What the hell are you doing here, Elena?” he hissed, his voice a low, venomous rumble meant only for my ears. “And what is that? Is this some pathetic stunt? I told you not to embarrass yourself.”
“You invited me, Julian,” I said, my voice perfectly clear, carrying just far enough for the first few rows to hear every syllable. “I’m just delivering a wedding present.”
Before he could respond, the rear doors opened again, and Fiona began her walk down the aisle. She looked beautiful in an extravagant lace gown, her small baby bump barely visible beneath the silk lining. She was radiant, smiling broadly until she realized the entire congregation was staring at me, not her.
Her smile completely vanished when she reached the altar and saw me standing in the center aisle, blocking her path to her groom.
“Elena?” Fiona’s voice lacked the smug confidence of her text messages. She looked at Julian, her eyes darting frantically. “Julian, get her out of here. Why is she here?”
“I was just admiring the venue, Fiona,” I said, turning slightly to face her. “It’s amazing what a person can afford when they use someone else’s inheritance.”
Fiona’s face went entirely white, the color draining so fast her makeup looked like a pale mask. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marcus,” I nodded toward my attorney.
Marcus stepped forward, opening the leather folder and pulling out three copies of the certified forensic audit. He handed one to Julian, one to Fiona, and tossed the third onto the altar rail right in front of the priest.
“What is this garbage?” Julian snapped, ripping the paper from Marcus’s hand. He glanced down at the columns of numbers, his eyes widening as he recognized the corporate bank accounts of his own firm, intertwined with the routing numbers of my late grandfather’s estate.
“That is a formal notice of a frozen asset injunction,” Marcus announced, his voice carrying through the vaulted ceiling of the church like a thunderclap. “As of nine o’clock this morning, the state supreme court has placed a temporary restraining order on all personal and corporate accounts tied to Julian Vance and Fiona Hayes. The underlying cause is grand larceny, corporate embezzlement, and fraud.”
The chapel erupted into chaos. Whispers turned into loud murmurs. Julian’s mother stood up, screaming at the top of her lungs, “Call security! Get these liars out of my son’s wedding!”
“Shut up, Eleanor,” I said, turning my head slightly to look at her. The sheer ice in my voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
I turned back to Julian, who was staring at the papers in absolute horror. He looked at Fiona, his voice cracking. “Fiona… what did you do? You said this money was from your family’s trust. You said you legally transferred it.”
