Part 2: My sister showed up to my wedding wearing a dazzling white bridal gown to steal my spotlight, completely unaware that I had paid for the entire venue and every single vendor out of my own pocket.

Vanessa’s face twisted into an expression of unhinged malice. All the faux innocence, the sweet sisterly facade, stripped away in a second.

"You think you've won, Emily?" Vanessa shrieked, lunging toward the head table. "You think you can just buy your way into Daniel's high-society world and throw me out like trash? You’ll always be the boring, pathetic nerd who stays late at the office while everyone else lives a real life! Look at you! Look at your pathetic dress! You don't even look like a bride!"

With a feral swipe of her arm, Vanessa snatched a full glass of full-bodied Cabernet Sauvignon from the nearest banquet table. Her knuckles went white around the stemware. Her intention was unmistakable: she was going to throw the dark red wine straight across the front of my pristine ivory silk gown, ruining my ceremony forever.

She cocked her arm back, a venomous sneer spreading across her lips.

"Vanessa, don't!" my father yelled.

Vanessa hurled the wine forward with all her strength.

Years of working high-stress live events had given me lightning reflexes. The moment her shoulder tensed, I took one sharp, deliberate step backward behind Daniel’s broad frame.

The arc of deep red wine missed me entirely.

Instead, the crimson liquid struck the corner of the polished glass display column holding the three-tier ice sculpture. The thick stream splattered violently off the hard surface, bouncing backward in a violent red spray directly onto Vanessa’s own chest.

A collective shriek of horror erupted from Patricia.

The imported Parisian lace—the thirty-eight-thousand-dollar custom masterpiece Vanessa had stolen my identity to purchase—absorbed the Cabernet like a sponge. A massive, blood-red stain bloomed across the bodice, dripping down into the voluminous layers of tulle and crystal embellishments, turning her into a grotesque, soaking-wet caricature of a ruined bride.

Vanessa looked down at her chest. She let out a high-pitched, warbling scream that sounded like a wounded animal.

"My dress! My dress! It's ruined!" she wrawled, clawing at the soaked fabric, which only smeared the dark red stain further across her neck and hands.

"Actually, Vanessa," Daniel remarked coldly, checking his platinum wristwatch, "it's not your dress. It's exhibit A in a grand larceny investigation. And you just vandalized evidence."

The two county sheriffs didn't wait for another word. They moved swiftly across the dais, one taking Vanessa by her left arm, the other taking her right.

"Miss Miller, you are under arrest for criminal fraud, trespassing, and destruction of corporate property," the senior deputy stated, clicking a pair of stainless steel handcuffs around her wrists—right behind the massive, wine-soaked train of her ruined veil.

"Mom! Dad! Do something!" Vanessa wailed, kicking her satin-heeled feet as she was physically dragged toward the ballroom’s side exit. "Emily! Tell them to stop! Emily!"

Patricia tried to rush toward the deputies, but Julian Hawthorne blocked her path with two towering security guards.

"Ma'am, if you take one more step, you will be joining your daughter in the cruiser," Julian warned with glacial calm. "Hawthorne Estate has zero tolerance for domestic disturbances. Your valet has been summoned. Your car is at the gate. Leave now, or leave in restraints."

Patricia turned her head, casting one final, poisonous glare at me. Her lips curled into a silent curse before she grabbed Richard’s arm and practically dragged the shell-shocked man out through the double doors, following the echoing screams of her favorite child down the long stone corridor.

The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut.

The lock engaged with a heavy, final *click*.

The silence returned to the ballroom, thick and heavy with shock. Two hundred guests sat motionless, their eyes darting between me, Daniel, and the red wine dripping onto the marble floor where Vanessa had stood seconds before.

I took a deep breath, letting the tension of twelve years drain out through my fingertips.

Then, Daniel turned to me. A slow, breathtaking smile broke across his handsome face. He took my hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed my knuckles.