Pain flared in my palm as my fingernails broke the skin. A warm drop of blood slid down my wrist, staining the delicate lace of my cuff.

I didn't blink. I kept my eyes glued to the phone screen.

"Are you really going to say 'I do' tomorrow?" Chloe's voice drifted through the tiny speaker.

Julian chuckled. The sound made my stomach turn. "I have to. The Sterling family connections are too good to pass up. Her dad practically handed me the VP spot."

"But she's so boring, Jules," Chloe whined. "She won't even let you leave a mark on her."

"She serves a purpose," Julian replied. "She's safe. Predictable."

"Am I predictable?" Chloe asked.

"You are a menace," Julian said.

On the screen, Chloe shifted her weight, straddling him tighter. "Let's spice up the ceremony. Leave a little souvenir in the ring box."

"What kind of souvenir?" Julian asked.

"The wrapper from this," Chloe said, holding up a small silver square. "Or better yet, the actual condom. Right on the cushion."

"Are you insane? She's allergic to latex."

"Exactly," Chloe laughed. Her voice was high, sharp, and cruel. "Think she'll puff up like a balloon at the altar? Or maybe she'll just cry and run away. She's weak like that. She always runs."

"What about the rings?" Julian asked. "Who has them?"

"Marcus," Chloe replied. "He picked them up from the jeweler yesterday."

"So how do you get the condom inside?"

"Easy," Chloe said. "I'll swap the boxes before the ceremony. I bought an identical blue velvet case from the same jeweler. Marcus won't notice the difference. He'll hand the bride a little surprise, and I'll be standing right there to watch her face crumble."

"You're a menace," Julian repeated, laughing.

"I'm thorough," Chloe corrected. "By the time she figures out what's in the box, you'll already have the ring on her finger and the VP contract signed. She'll be too humiliated to call it off in front of two hundred people."

The video ended there. The screen returned to the frozen frame of Chloe straddling Julian's lap.

I lowered the phone. My hand had stopped shaking entirely.

The fear was gone. The hurt was gone. In their place sat something colder and far more useful.

They had rehearsed my humiliation like a stage play. They had counted on my silence, my softness, my desperate need to keep the peace in front of a crowd.

They had no idea who they were dealing with anymore.

I gripped the phone tighter and turned toward the locked door of the bridal suite, already mapping out exactly how I would burn their entire performance to the ground.

A tall shadow stretched across the Persian rug, swallowing the light pooling around my feet.

I spun around, dropping my phone to my side.

Silas stood in the doorway of the adjoining vestry. He held a brass master key in his left hand. As the church's sound engineer, he had access to every room in the building.

"You locked the main door," Silas said. "You forgot the side entrance."

"Get out, Silas," I demanded. "I don't have time for an audience."

He didn't move. Instead, he crossed the room, closing the distance between us. He extended a small paper cup toward me. Steam curled from the rim.

"Drink," he ordered.

"I don't want water."

"Your hands are shaking," he pointed out. "Take the cup, Aria."

I snatched the cup from his grip. The warmth seeped through the thin cardboard, contrasting sharply with the cold dread running through my veins.

Silas's dark eyes dropped to the glowing screen of my phone. I hadn't locked the device. The raw HTML code of the university forum glared against the dark mode background. After watching the security footage of Chloe and Julian, I had dug into the old campus server, searching for the exact date their private messages began.

"You're digging up the past," Silas noted, his tone flat. "Trying to find out how long they've been playing you?"

"It's none of your business," I snapped.

"It became my business the second your groom brought a biohazard to the altar," Silas countered. He checked his silver wristwatch. "You have exactly ten minutes before the organist starts the bridal march again. Julian is pacing a hole in the hallway carpet."

"Let him pace."

Silas tilted his head. "Are you still going to marry him?"

"I am going to destroy him," I said.

"Good," Silas replied. "But you're missing the biggest lie."

I frowned, gripping the warm paper cup tighter. "What lie?"

Silas took a step closer. His imposing frame blocked the stained-glass light. "Are you really going to marry the man who can't even remember which hand he used to smash open the storage room door back then?"

The question hit me like a physical blow.

The old chemistry building. Sophomore year. Someone had shoved me into the basement storage room and thrown the heavy deadbolt. Trapped in the pitch-black space, choking on years of accumulated dust and mold, I had felt my chest seize as a severe asthma attack closed my throat. I had pounded on the reinforced glass window of the door until my knuckles bled.

Then, someone had swung a heavy fire axe into the steel frame. The hinges shattered. A pair of strong arms pulled me out, wrapping a heavy varsity jacket around my collapsing frame.

Julian had claimed it was him.

"Julian said he used his left hand," I whispered, the memory rushing back. "He said he bruised his knuckles hacking the door open."

Silas watched my face. "Did you ever see a scar on his left hand?"

"No," I answered, my voice trembling. "I asked him about it once. He told me he used a special scar cream and it healed perfectly."

Silas let out a harsh, humorless laugh. "A perfect heal from a shattered steel doorframe? That's a medical miracle."

"He had the jacket," I argued, though the defense tasted like ash in my mouth. "He brought me to the campus clinic."

"He found you on the grass outside the building," Silas corrected.

"How do you know that?" I asked.

Silas shifted his stance. He raised his right hand to adjust the collar of his black dress shirt.

The movement exposed the back of his hand to the harsh overhead light.

A faded, crescent-shaped scar sat stark against his olive skin. The jagged edges perfectly matched the shape of a torn metal doorframe.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

I took a half-step backward. My heavy silk skirt caught on the heel of my shoe, throwing me off balance.

Silas reached out instantly, his hand gripping my elbow to steady me. His thumb brushed against my bare skin.

I stared at the scar.

"It was you," I breathed out. "You broke the door."

Silas didn't drop his gaze. "I pulled you out. I wrapped my jacket around your shoulders. You were unconscious. I ran to the main road to flag down the paramedics because the cell towers were jammed."

"And Julian?"

"When I came back with the medics, Julian was kneeling next to you on the grass," Silas explained. "He was holding your hand. He told the EMTs he broke the door. He took the credit."

"He wore your jacket?" I asked, my voice cracking.

"He found it on the ground where I dropped it," Silas said. "When I got back, he was wearing it. He told the police he wrapped you in it before carrying you out."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I yelled, shoving his hand away. "Why did you let him lie for seven years?"

"I tried to correct him," Silas replied, his jaw tightening. "The campus police told me to back off. Julian had enough money and influence back then to make a scholarship kid look like a liar. He told the cops I was just a bystander trying to get my fifteen minutes of fame. They believed him."

"You should have come to me," I insisted.

"Would you have believed me over the guy you thought saved your life?" Silas asked, his voice hardening. "You woke up, saw his face, and decided he was your hero. I didn't have the pedigree to compete with him. So I let him have the credit."

"He stole your jacket," I said, the absurdity of the situation making me dizzy.

"He stole a lot more than that," Silas replied.

The puzzle pieces snapped together with brutal force.

Julian hadn't just cheated on me with my best friend. He had built our entire relationship on a stolen rescue. He manufactured a debt of gratitude I had spent the last seven years trying to repay.

Every compromise. Every time I backed down from an argument. Every time I ignored Chloe's snide comments because Julian told me I was being overly sensitive.

It was all built on a massive, calculated lie.

"Ten minutes," I muttered.

"Nine, now," Silas corrected. "Julian is going to start banging on that door any second. He needs you back on that altar to secure his promotion at your father's company."

"My father created that VP position specifically for him," I said, disgust twisting my stomach. "Julian told me he earned it."

"He earned nothing," Silas stated. "He took it. Just like he took the credit for the fire."

"He is never stepping foot in my father's company again," I vowed.

I set the paper cup on the vanity table. The water sloshed over the rim, pooling around the base of my discarded bouquet.

I picked up my phone.

The university forum code still glowed on the screen. I swiped it away.

The security app reappeared. The paused video of Julian and Chloe froze on the display. Chloe straddling his lap on my gray velvet sofa. Julian laughing about leaving a wrapper in my ring box.

"What are you doing?" Silas asked.

"Fixing my mistakes," I answered.

I tapped the top right corner of the screen. The church's media control panel popped up. As the bride, the pastor had given me the Wi-Fi password and network access to cast our childhood photo montage during the reception.

The sanctuary's massive drop-down screen—the one hanging directly above the altar—was linked to the exact same network.

"You have access to the main projector," Silas realized, a dark smirk playing on his lips.

"I do," I confirmed.

I selected the video file from the security app. A prompt flashed on the screen.

*Connect to Sanctuary Projector 1?*

Heavy fists pounded against the thick oak door of the bridal suite.

"Aria!" Julian shouted from the hallway. "Your five minutes are up! Open this door right now!"

"He sounds impatient," Silas noted.

"He has no idea what impatient looks like," I replied.

"Are you ready to blow up your life?" Silas asked.

I looked at the crescent scar on his hand, then at the locked door, and finally down at the glowing confirmation button on my screen.

I pressed the screen casting confirmation button.

"I'm not getting married," I said. "I want them dead."

My finger struck the *Enter* key on the media control tablet, the crisp click echoing loudly in the quiet bridal suite.

I unlocked the heavy oak door and yanked it open.

Julian immediately stumbled forward, his face flushed purple with rage. He checked his gold watch, glaring at me.

"Finally!" Julian snapped. "Your little tantrum is over. Get out there right now and—"

"Move," I ordered, cutting him off.

I shoved past him, my heavy silk train dragging over his polished shoes. Silas followed right behind me, his expression unreadable.

"Aria, what is wrong with you?" Julian demanded, chasing after me down the narrow corridor. "The organist has been playing the same loop for ten minutes! My mother is having a panic attack in the front row!"

I didn't answer. I kept my eyes fixed on the double doors leading into the main sanctuary.

"Are you listening to me?" Julian grabbed my elbow. "You are embarrassing me!"

I ripped my arm out of his grip. "Don't touch me."

I pushed through the double doors.

The sanctuary was packed. Two hundred guests turned their heads to look at me. The organ music swelled, anticipating my walk down the aisle.

I didn't look at the guests. I stared straight up at the massive drop-down screen hanging above the altar.

The romantic slideshow of our engagement photos vanished.

A new image replaced it.

In brilliant, 4K high-definition, my gray velvet sofa filled the screen. Chloe sat straddling Julian's lap. She wore absolutely nothing.

The church's surround sound system blasted their voices across the vaulted ceiling.

"Are you really going to say 'I do' tomorrow?" Chloe's voice whined through the speakers.

"I have to," Julian's digital voice replied, laughing. "The Sterling family connections are too good to pass up. Her dad practically handed me the VP spot."

Complete chaos erupted.

Guests screamed, gasped, and leaped out of the wooden pews.

"What is this?" Julian's mother shrieked, collapsing against her husband. "Turn it off!"

My father stood up from the front row, his face contorted in absolute fury. "Julian! What the hell is going on?"

"Turn it off!" Julian shrieked, sprinting down the aisle behind me. He waved his arms frantically at the sound booth. "Someone cut the power!"

I ignored his frantic shouting. I climbed the three carpeted steps to the altar and snatched the microphone from the pastor's trembling hands.

Chloe stood frozen in the front row. Her pink bridesmaid dress suddenly looked ridiculous. Her jaw hung open, her eyes darting frantically around the room as the guests pointed and shouted at her.

"You left a used condom in my ring box, Chloe," I spoke directly into the microphone. My voice sliced through the uproar, silencing the front rows. "Did you really think I wouldn't check the security cameras?"

"Aria, no, wait," Chloe stammered, backing away. She bumped into a floral arrangement, knocking a vase to the floor. "It's a fake! That isn't me! Someone hacked the screen!"

"Julian, tell them!" Chloe pleaded, turning to him. "Tell them it's a lie!"

Julian didn't even look at her. "Shut up, Chloe! You ruined everything!"

I reached into the bodice of my gown and pulled out a folded stack of papers. Silas had printed them for me in the church office just minutes ago.

"I also checked the IP address from the university forum," I announced.

Chloe's eyes widened in genuine terror. The color drained completely from her face. "Don't."

"For three years, an anonymous user posted daily threads telling me to drop out, calling me worthless, and urging me to kill myself," I said, my tone ice-cold.

"Stop talking!" Chloe screamed, covering her ears.

I threw the papers at her. They fluttered through the air, landing at her feet.

"The IP address matches your parents' router," I stated, staring her down. "You didn't just sleep with my fiancé. You are the coward who tormented me for years."

"You deserved it!" Chloe shrieked, bursting into tears. Her fake innocent facade finally cracked. "You always had everything, Aria! The money, the clothes, the perfect grades! You made me sick! I just wanted to take something away from you!"

The crowd erupted in disgusted murmurs.

Julian scrambled up the altar steps, his perfectly styled hair now a tangled mess. He dropped hard onto both knees right in front of my dress.

"Aria, please," Julian begged, grabbing at the air. "She means nothing to me! It was just stress from the wedding! I swear, it was a mistake!"

"A mistake is a typo, Julian," I replied, staring down at him. "This is a betrayal."

"You can't cancel the wedding!" he yelled, panic raising the pitch of his voice. He pointed wildly at the third row. "My boss is right there! My career will be ruined!"

"Consider it destroyed," I said. "My father will fire you before you even leave this building."

"You owe me!" Julian roared, desperation twisting his features into something ugly. Tears streamed down his cheeks, ruining his expensive cologne. "Have you forgotten what I did for you? I dragged you out of that burning storage room! I shattered that glass! I saved your life, Aria!"

He lunged forward, reaching to grab my waist.

His hand stopped in mid-air.

Silas stepped between us. He clamped his large hand around Julian's wrist, gripping the bone tight enough to make Julian wince in pain.

"Don't touch her," Silas warned, his voice low and dangerous.

"Get off me, you nobody!" Julian spat, trying to yank his arm free. "This is between me and my wife! She owes me her life!"

Silas didn't let go. He tightened his grip, forcing Julian to stay on his knees.

With his free hand, Silas reached into the breast pocket of his black suit jacket.

He pulled out a heavy silver object.

It was a university badge. The metal was heavily scratched, and dark, dried blood crusted the sharp edges.

Silas hurled the badge directly into Julian's face.

The heavy metal struck Julian's cheekbone with a sickening crack. Julian cried out, falling backward onto the carpet. A thin line of fresh red blood welled up where the badge had cut his skin.

The silver pin clattered against the wooden floorboards, spinning before coming to a complete stop.

"What is wrong with you?" Julian screamed, clutching his face. "Are you crazy?"

I stared at the silver badge. The dried blood on the metal matched the jagged scar on Silas's right hand. The same hand that had smashed the safety glass seven years ago. The same hand currently holding Julian down.

Silas took a step forward. He drove the heel of his leather shoe directly down onto the back of Julian's hand, pinning it firmly to the floor.

Julian let out an agonizing howl.

Silas leaned down, his dark eyes locking onto Julian's terrified face.

"You stole my jacket to claim the credit," Silas said, his voice echoing loudly through the microphone I still held. "Now, I'm taking what's mine."