Chapter 6 - Whispers Behind Closed Doors
The silence in the grand ballroom felt heavy enough to choke every living soul in attendance.
Evelyn did not blink as she studied Julian’s sickly, pale face across the five feet of broken glass between them.
"Tell me every single word he said to you, Clara," Evelyn commanded, keeping her gaze locked on Julian.
Clara gripped the silk sleeve of Evelyn’s crimson gown, her knuckles aching from the strain.
"I went back to the bridal suite to grab your vintage pearl hairpin," Clara whispered, her voice trembling.
"The door clicked shut behind me, and when I turned around, Julian was standing right against the frame," she continued.
"He locked the deadbolt and smiled at me like I was an animal trapped in a corner," Clara recounted.
"He pulled out a folded document and told me my father’s trust fund was transferring to his control today," Clara wept.
"When I told him my mother would never allow him to touch my father’s legacy, his smile disappeared," she choked out.
"He stepped so close I could smell the bourbon on his breath and grabbed my wrist until it bruised," Clara explained.
"He looked right into my eyes and said Evelyn belongs to me now, and her money belongs to Vance Capital," she sobbed.
"Then he leaned into my ear and whispered that accidents happen all the time to reckless young heiresses," Clara revealed.
"He promised that within six months of the wedding, I would vanish from this earth without a trace," Clara cried.
Gasps of pure shock erupted from Julian’s own business partners standing in the front rows.
Julian tried to laugh, but the sound died in his throat as a pathetic, dry rasp.
"She’s lying! She’s mentally unstable and jealous of our happiness, Evelyn!" Julian shouted desperately.
"Look at her! She’s trying to tear us apart because she can’t stand seeing you move on!" Julian lied frantically.
"Do not dare use my late husband or my daughter’s grief to cover your filth," Evelyn responded with icy venom.
May you like
Marcus tightened his grip on Julian's shoulder, his fingers digging into the muscle until the billionaire winced.
The grand illusions of high-society romance had completely crumbled into an ugly, calculated crime scene.
