Chapter 7
Callum and Estelle’s wedding went ahead as scheduled.
The guest list? Every name that mattered in Astoria’s high society.
Evelyn sat quietly in the far corner of the grand ballroom, wearing a soft lilac sheath dress. The vintage cut framed her delicate figure, elegant yet subdued.
Callum had always been the center of attention-loud, proud, possessive. He never used to go anywhere without her.
For years, everyone in this town had known her name: Evelyn Rivers, the woman Callum Whitmore had fought the world to
marry.
Now? She was watching her husband marry someone else.
The woman he once buried in his heart-and had now resurrected in front of the entire city.
A twisted smile curled on Evelyn’s lips.
“That’s his wife?” a whisper came from nearby.
“God, she must really have no shame. Watching your husband marry another woman-what kind of self-respecting
woman sits through that?”
“If it were me, I’d have burned the whole damn place down.”
“Please, you think she dares? Callum’s known for being unhinged. Didn’t you hear how he once tied her little sister to a
plane when she threw a tantrum over his ex?”
“I mean… yeah. Word is, if you’re part of the Rivers circle, loyalty isn’t optional. It’s mandatory-like a dog trained to heel.”
Every word sliced into Evelyn like a shard of glass.
But she didn’t flinch. She couldn’t. Not here.
The officiant’s voice echoed across the room: “Do you, Callum Whitmore, take Estelle Moore to be your lawfully wedded
wife?”
And she watched.
Watched the man who once swore to never let her cry, smile softly and say,
“I do.”
A wave of grief surged through her chest. And yet, she stayed seated.
“And now,” the officiant continued, “would the flower girl please bring the rings?”
Lily, her baby sister, walked slowly down the aisle in a rose-pink tulle dress.
Tears shimmered in the little girl’s eyes. Callum shot her a warning glare.
She quickly looked down and did as she was told.
“Isn’t that Evelyn’s sister?” someone whispered.
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“Seriously? That’s just… disgusting. Talk about rubbing salt in the wound.”
“Estelle Moore was always the main character. Evelyn? Just the placeholder. Guess her turn’s over.”
Lily stepped forward and offered the “Eternal Love” ring-once Evelyn’s, now worn by another woman.
Callum didn’t hesitate. He slipped it onto Estelle’s finger.
Then, as the crowd applauded, he leaned down and kissed his bride.
But even as he kissed Estelle, his eyes drifted to the far corner.
To Evelyn.
He wanted to see her break.
To watch her crumble under the weight of it all.
That was his brand of control-watching her seethe, watching her care, watching her stay.
Except… this time, their eyes locked.
And then-
BOOM!
A thunderous explosion cracked above them, and the sky suddenly filled with falling photographs.
Dozens. Hundreds.
Explicit images of Estelle-one more damning than the last-rained down like confetti.
Gasps erupted. Panic followed.
Thick smoke flooded the ballroom, blinding the crowd. The orchestra screeched to a halt. Security scrambled in every
direction.
In the chaos, someone snatched Lily away from the altar and disappeared into the smoke.
Evelyn slipped through the crowd, her heels in hand, heart pounding.
She ducked into the women’s restroom, locked the door, pulled out a scalpel she’d hidden in her clutch-
And dug into her arm.
Blood streamed down, but she didn’t stop until the tracker-barely the size of a grain of rice-popped out into her
trembling palm.
She wrapped it in tissue, pressed it into the gloved hand waiting just outside the window.
“Goodbye, Callum,” she whispered.
Then she kicked off her shoes, slipped through the back exit-
And didn’t look back.
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Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.