At the bottom, he scribbled:

“You lost, Elena. Disappear gracefully.”

I laughed for the first time in two years.

Instead of answering him, Celeste and I quietly filed motions, contacted federal investigators, and submitted evidence to prosecutors already investigating Marcus’s company.

The collapse started silently.

A banker resigned.

An accountant agreed to testify.

Court orders were signed.

And on the morning of Marcus and Vivian’s wedding rehearsal, every major account connected to the company was frozen.

Marcus finally called me after two years.

“Elena,” he snapped, panic bleeding through his voice. “What did you do?”

I smiled softly.

“You’re asking the wrong question,” I told him. “Ask what I saved.”

The final confrontation happened during their wedding.

Gold decorations.

White roses.

Champagne towers.

Guests laughing beneath crystal lights while Marcus stood at the altar pretending his life was perfect.

Then I walked in.

The room fell silent.

Marcus rushed toward me immediately.

“You need to leave.”