Chapter 2 - The Shockwave
As the heavy oak doors swung open to usher Rebecca out into the hallway, the collective breath of three hundred guests hung frozen in the air. Marcus continued to stand tall on the stage, basking in the perceived triumph of his calculated betrayal.
"You should have stayed gone, Rebecca," Marcus sneered, his voice dripping with condescension as he raised his own glass toward Celeste.
Celeste chuckled softly, leaning against his shoulder. "Some people just don't know when they've been beaten, darling. She honestly thought she could match your legal standing."
The guests seated near the front rows shifted uneasily. My mother was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock, while my father stared at the polished floor where Rebecca's purse lay abandoned. Nobody dared to speak. The sheer audacity of Marcus's public humiliation of his wife felt brutal, almost barbaric, even for the high-society circles they ran in.
Marcus turned to address the room, preparing to deliver a polished speech to sweep the awkward incident under the rug. He raised his hands to quiet the murmurs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Marcus began, pasting on his most charming corporate smile, "mistakes happen in life, but we must look forward—"
BAM.
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The heavy double doors at the main entrance of the ballroom violently burst open, crashing against the mahogany walls with a force that made the crystal chandeliers rattle overhead.
Marcus's smile froze instantly. His hand hovered in mid-air.
