Chapter 7 - The Collapse Of The Kensington Facade
The ballroom erupted into chaos as guests jumped to their feet, staring at the screens in utter disbelief and anger.
Evelyn’s mother shrieked in horror, covering her face as the video played the sickening sound of Genevieve’s wrist fracturing.
Evelyn lunged toward the AV podium near the stage, but two of my personal security guards immediately stepped up to block her path.
“Turn it off! Turn it off right now!” Evelyn screamed, her sweet, gentle persona evaporating into wild, hysterical rage.
“He framed me! That video is fake! It’s AI-generated!” she shouted toward the flashing news cameras.
I stood at the microphone, my voice remaining as cold and steady as an iceberg.
“The video is authentic, Evelyn,” I said, looking down at her as she scrambled backwards in her high heels.
“And while you were putting on your veil this morning, my legal team was reviewing your offshore banking transactions.”
Evelyn froze in her tracks, her chest heaving as she stared at me with pure, unadulterated venom.
“You didn’t just assault my daughter,” I announced to the entire room, including the corporate board members in the front row.
“Over the last eighteen months, you transferred four point two million dollars from our subsidiary accounts into a Cayman trust.”
“A trust registered under your real legal name—Evelyn Miller—and your secret husband in Chicago.”
The room went dead silent, the revelation dropping like an anvil onto the heads of everyone present.
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Evelyn’s bridesmaids backed away from her as if she were covered in poison, leaving her standing alone in the center aisle.
Two uniformed officers from the city police department walked through the double doors of the ballroom, their handcuffs glinting under the chandeliers.
