Chapter 3 - The Cold Resolve
Underneath the heavy bed, the heartbroken, weeping bride completely vanished.
A tight close-up captured Clara’s face. The hot tears stopped falling. Her realistic micro-expressions violently shifted. The desperate, devastated girl entirely evaporated, instantly replaced by a cold, demonic, and utterly terrifying rage.
She wasn't going to be their disposable victim. She wasn't going to let them destroy her entire life just to save their pathetic, fraudulent empire.
Clara gently tapped the screen of her phone, saving the crystal-clear audio recording to a secure cloud server.
Above her, the mattress shifted.
"Alright, send the final documents to my email," Beatrice concluded sharply into the phone. "I have to go smile for the cameras. The wedding starts in twenty minutes."
Beatrice stood up. Her dark lace evening gown swished against the hardwood floor. She crushed her cigarette into a crystal ashtray on the nightstand and walked confidently out of the luxurious bridal suite, completely unaware that she had just signed her own absolute death warrant.
Clara remained perfectly still under the bed for exactly sixty seconds to ensure the hallway was clear.
Then, she slowly slid out from under the heavy frame.
She stood up in her beautiful white lace wedding gown. She didn't ruin her makeup. She didn't scream or break anything in the room. She simply stared at her phone with absolute, unbreakable determination.
May you like
She had twenty minutes before she was supposed to walk down the aisle.
👉 What calculated, lethal move will the bride make before the music starts?
