Emma's POV
Five hundred people stare at me.
The ballroom goes completely silent. The music stops mid-note. Champagne glasses pause halfway to lips. Everyone freezes like someone pressed pause on their lives.
Victoria sees me first. Her face goes white as snow. The smile drops off her face. She grabs Alexander's arm so hard her knuckles turn white.
Alexander follows her gaze. When he sees me, his mouth falls open.
"Emma?" His voice carries across the silent room. "What are you doing here?"
Damien's hand presses against my lower back. A gentle push forward. "Smile," he whispers. "Act like you own this room."
I force my lips into a smile. Step forward on shaking legs.
Patricia pushes through the crowd, her face twisted with fury. "You were NOT invited. You need to leave. NOW."
"Actually," Damien's voice cuts through the tension like a knife, "Emma is my plus-one. I'm Damien Cross, CEO of Cross Industries. I believe I was invited."
Patricia's anger shifts to confusion. She clearly recognizes the name—everyone in this room knows who Damien Cross is. Billionaire. Powerful. Not someone you kick out of your party.
"Mr. Cross, of course you're welcome." Patricia's voice drips fake sweetness. "But your... companion... is not. She's my stepdaughter, and there's been a family conflict—"
"That's exactly why I brought her." Damien's smile is sharp. "I thought this would be the perfect venue to resolve that conflict. Publicly. With witnesses."
My father appears beside Patricia, his face red. "Emma, this is inappropriate. This is your sister's wedding day—"
"Stepsister," I correct, my voice stronger than I feel. "And it was supposed to be MY wedding day. My dress. My flowers. My venue. Victoria just... borrowed it all."
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Phones appear. People start recording.
Victoria's eyes fill with tears. "Emma, please. I'm dying. Can't you just let me have this one day? Please?"
She's good. I'll give her that. The tears look real. Her voice trembles perfectly. She's playing the dying victim card and everyone is buying it.
"That's actually why we're here." Damien pulls out his phone. "I have some interesting information about Victoria's medical condition."
"How dare you!" Patricia steps forward. "My daughter's private medical information is none of your business!"
"It became my business when she used false medical claims to steal someone else's life." Damien's voice is ice-cold. "Emma, would you like to tell them what you discovered?"
This is it. The moment of truth.
My phone buzzes in my clutch. The anonymous text: "This is a trap. He's about to destroy YOU."
I look at Damien. His expression is calm. Confident. Completely in control.
Is he setting me up? Or is someone trying to stop me from exposing the truth?
Victoria clutches Alexander's arm. "I don't know what lies she's been telling you, Mr. Cross, but I assure you—"
"I saw your medical records," I interrupt. My voice rings clear across the ballroom. "Last week. On Dad's desk. They said manageable condition. Normal life expectancy. Not terminal. Not dying."
Victoria's tears stop like someone turned off a faucet. Just for a second. Then they start again, harder. "Those were old records! Before the new diagnosis!"
"Really?" Damien taps his phone. "Because the medical records my investigator pulled this morning tell a different story. Would you like me to display them on the reception screens? I'm sure the press would love to fact-check your dying wish story."
The color drains from Patricia's face. Dad's jaw clenches. They know they're caught.
But Alexander steps forward, positioning himself between us and Victoria. "This is ridiculous. Emma, I know you're hurt, but making up conspiracy theories about medical records is a new low. Even for you."
Even for me. Like I'm the problem. Like I'm the liar.
My phone buzzes again. Text from unknown number: "Check your bank account. NOW."
My heart stops. With shaking hands, I open my banking app while everyone argues around me.
Balance: $0.00
What? That's impossible. I had $847 this morning.
I refresh the app. Still zero.
There's a transaction history. At 9:15 AM—right when I was eating breakfast at Damien's house—all my money was transferred to an account I don't recognize.
I look up at Damien. He's still arguing with my father, confident and in control.
Did he steal my money? Did he drain my account while he distracted me with breakfast and wedding revenge plans?
Another text: "Now check your trust fund status."
No. No, no, no.
I pull up the trust fund website. Log in with trembling fingers.
ACCOUNT CLOSED.
The entire $500,000 trust fund my mother left me. Gone. Closed this morning. All funds transferred to... Victoria Chen's medical expense account.
They did it. While I was at Damien's house feeling safe and planning revenge, my family stole everything.
"Emma?" Damien notices my face. "What's wrong?"
"They took it." My voice sounds hollow. "All of it. My bank account. My trust fund. Everything."
Damien's confident expression cracks for just a second. "That's impossible. The trust fund paperwork takes weeks—"
"Dad must have filed emergency medical paperwork." My father's smile is cruel. "When a family member is terminal, emergency fund access can be approved in 24 hours. I filed yesterday afternoon."
"Before you even told me," I whisper. "You planned this."
Patricia's fake concern drops away completely. "Of course we planned it. Did you think we'd let you run off with a stranger and keep access to hundreds of thousands of dollars? Victoria needs that money for her care."
"Victoria ISN'T DYING!" I shout.
"Prove it," Alexander says calmly. "Show us these supposed real medical records."
Everyone turns to Damien.
He stands there, phone in hand, and I see something flicker across his face. Something that makes my stomach drop.
Uncertainty.
"The investigator is still compiling the final report," Damien says slowly.
"So you have nothing," Dad says triumphantly. "You crashed my daughter's wedding with accusations you can't prove."
The crowd starts murmuring. Turning against me. This is bad. This is really, really bad.
My phone buzzes one more time: "Look at what Damien's company stock just did."
I pull up the stock market app. Cross Industries stock is surging. Up 15% in the last hour.
There's a breaking news headline: "Cross Industries CEO Damien Cross Makes Bold Move at Kane Wedding: Analysts Predict Major Business Implications."
He's using this. Using me. Using this whole scene to manipulate stock prices and business deals.
The anonymous texter was right. This was never about helping me. This was about using me as a weapon against the Kanes while boosting his own company.
I turn to Damien. "You planned this. All of it."
"Emma—"
"You KNEW they'd steal my money this morning. You KNEW I'd have nothing left. You wanted me desperate and dependent on you."
Damien's face hardens. "That's not—"
"And you don't have any medical records, do you? You never did. You just wanted to cause a scene. Get attention. Make the Kanes look bad while making yourself look powerful." My voice rises. "I was just a prop in your business game."
The ballroom is completely silent again. Everyone watching. Everyone recording.
Damien steps toward me. "Emma, listen—"
"Don't touch me." I back away. "Don't EVER touch me again."
I turn to leave. Victoria's voice stops me.
"Wait." She sounds different now. Not sweet. Not scared. Cold. "Before you go, Emma, there's something you should know."
I turn back.
Victoria's tears are gone. She's smiling. A smile I've never seen before—mean and victorious.
"Alexander and I have been together for two years," Victoria says clearly. "Long before your engagement. We've been in love this whole time. The wedding timing wasn't because I'm dying. It was because we were tired of pretending."
My brain can't process this. "What?"
Alexander has the decency to look uncomfortable. But he doesn't deny it.
"Two years," Victoria continues. "Every time you were working your three jobs, he was with me. Every time you gave him money for his 'business,' he was spending it on dates with me. You were so busy being the perfect girlfriend, you never noticed."
The room spins.
"The dying wish was just a convenient excuse," Victoria says. "A way to end things without looking like the bad guy. And you fell for it completely."
I look at Alexander. "Is that true?"
He can't meet my eyes. That's answer enough.
"So everything," I whisper. "Everything was a lie."
"Not everything," Victoria says sweetly. "Your trust fund really is gone. That part's true."
Patricia steps forward. "And Emma? There's one more thing. The apartment you and Alexander shared? We changed the locks this morning. Your stuff is in storage. You have 30 days to collect it before we sell it all."
I'm trapped. Humiliated. Broke. Homeless. Standing in a ballroom full of people recording every moment of my destruction.
Damien used me.
My family destroyed me.
And I have absolutely nothing left.
I run. Push through the crowd. Through the ballroom doors. Through the lobby. Outside into the cold evening air.
Behind me, I hear Damien calling my name. But I don't stop. Can't stop.
I run until I can't breathe anymore. Until I'm blocks away from the hotel, standing on a street corner, shaking and crying and completely alone.
My phone rings. Unknown number.
I almost don't answer. But what do I have to lose now?
"Hello?"
"Emma Chen." A woman's voice. Smooth. Professional. "My name is Margaret Frost. I'm an attorney, and I have information about your mother's death that changes everything you think you know about your family."
"What?"
"Your mother didn't die in an accident," Margaret says. "She was murdered. And I have proof that Patricia killed her."
The world tilts on its axis.
"Meet me at the Riverside Café in thirty minutes. Come alone. Trust no one. Especially not Damien Cross." She pauses. "Oh, and Emma? Your mother left you something besides that trust fund. Something your father doesn't know exists. Something worth ten times what they just stole from you."
The line goes dead.
I stand on the street corner, destroyed and humiliated and completely broken.
But maybe—just maybe—the fight isn't over yet.