Part 3
Chaos exploded through the ballroom.
Half of the two hundred guests rose from their chairs, whispering furiously and holding up phones to record the disaster unfolding in front of them.
The same socialites who had laughed at me minutes earlier now stared at my parents with shock, disgust, and unmistakable satisfaction.
My mother rushed toward the podium microphone, her face twisted with rage and panic.
“Don’t listen to him! He’s lying! Clara is a fraud! She ruined my daughter’s wedding out of pure jealousy!”
“Jealousy?” I asked quietly.
My voice wasn’t loud, but Julian still held the microphone close enough that the sound carried clearly through the room.
I slowly rose from table twelve.
I smoothed the sleek emerald-green evening dress I had bought on a whim—not because I couldn’t afford something more expensive, but because I had no interest in dressing to impress people who despised me.
