Chapter 5 - The Wedding March
The grand outdoor venue was breathtaking. Bright sunlight illuminated the massive floral arches, and a live string quartet played a beautiful, haunting melody. Hundreds of wealthy guests sat in perfect rows, waiting for the ceremony.
Beatrice sat proudly in the front row, wearing her dark lace gown, looking like the absolute matriarch of the elite family.
The music swelled. The heavy mahogany doors at the back of the venue opened.
Clara began her walk down the aisle.
She moved with slow, terrifying grace. Her white lace gown flowed perfectly over the manicured grass. Mark stood at the altar, beaming with fake, manipulative pride as he watched his perfect, gullible victim approach him.
Clara didn't look at Mark. As she walked, her cold, piercing eyes locked directly onto Beatrice in the front row.
Beatrice smiled back, a smug, arrogant, highly confident smirk. She thought she had completely won. She thought the paperwork was finalized, the condo was secured, and the massive financial debt was entirely shifted onto the girl in the white dress.
Clara finally reached the altar. She didn't hand her bouquet to her bridesmaid.
She kept her phone hidden securely inside the hollowed-out center of the floral arrangement.
The wealthy, highly paid officiant smiled warmly at the couple. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Mark and Clara..."
Clara didn't wait for him to finish his generic speech.
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"Before we begin," Clara interrupted, her voice ringing perfectly clear through the microphone clipped to Mark's tuxedo lapel. "I have a wedding gift I need to share with my new family."
👉 What absolute, brutal chaos is the bride about to unleash on the audience?
