Chapter 2: Shadows in the Attic
The reception was a blur of forced laughter and expensive champagne. Julian, playing the role of the devoted groom, slipped away from his bride under the guise of finding a quiet moment. His destination: the attic, where the heavy wooden door Lily had pointed toward sat under a layer of dust.
He didn't need a key; the door was already slightly ajar. As he pushed it open, the smell of neglect and damp earth hit him. His phone’s flashlight swept across the room, illuminating a sight that destroyed his reality. It wasn't just a storage room; it was a holding cell. There were photos of every man Clara had "loved" before him—each one annotated with bank account details, expiration dates, and methods of gradual liquidation.
In the corner, he saw the truth: a system of surveillance cameras streaming the wedding hall below. Clara wasn't just a bride; she was a predator, and he was her prize, marked for total financial and personal annihilation. He reached for the brass doorknob, his knuckles white, his fury radiating a lethal, untouchable power. He wasn't just a victim anymore; he was a bomb waiting to go off.
