Chandelier crystals danced like guilty stars over the Blackwood Gala ballroom. Elite New York pulsed: CEOs, models, moguls toasting Ethan's IPO triumph. Blackwood Tech banners screamed "$1.2B Valuation!"
Ethan, tux razor-sharp, arm around Lila's glittering sheath. "To empires!" Glass raised, flashbulbs popped. Lila preened: "My husband's night."
Doors swung. Whispers rippled. Sophia Vanderbilt glided in—red gown hugging every lethal curve, slit flashing thigh, Vanderbilt rubies choking her neck like revenge blood.
Gasps: "Her? The ghost bride?"
Ethan choked champagne. Lila clawed: "Impossible!"
Sophia seized mic from bandstand. "Ladies, gentlemen—congrats, Ethan. On my dime."
Screens hijacked: Montage exploded. Bedroom betrayal—moans HD. Lila's texts: Dump hag post-wedding. Ethan's siphon logs: $10M "loans" vanished. Audio vows: "Pity ceremony."
Horror tsunami. Investors bolted: "Fraud!"
Sophia strode stage. Lila lunged: "Lies!"
Crack! Face-slap echoed. Lila spun, cheek flaming. "Thieving whore—enjoy jail?"
Group slap: Bodyguards queued vids—Lila's fraud. "Arrest pending."
Ethan dropped knees: "Sophia—mercy! Mistake!"
Slap! Jaw-cracking. "Six years, worm."
Stock ticker wall: -45%. Sirens wailed—SEC raid.
Sophia mic-whisper: "Grovel later. Enjoy the fall."
She exited queen, flashes blinding. Chaos reigned.
Ethan sobbed confetti: "My life..."
Lila dragged out: "Bitch!"