Chapter 4

Cabs refused to stop in the storm. I walked through the torrential downpour for miles before finally arriving at Mr. Harrison's estate.

I spent three hours on my knees, pouring out heartfelt apologies until my voice went hoarse, finally securing his agreement not to sue immediately.

By the time I left, the rain had stopped.

Just then, a notification popped up from my senior colleague:

We examined the necklace under the microscope. There’s a clean, deliberate cut near the fracture.

It was sabotaged on purpose.

My breath hitched in my throat.

Of course.

Serena did it deliberately.

She knew the stakes, and she did it specifically to frame me and ruin my professional reputation.

I shook with fury.

I pulled up Serena’s contact card, determined to confront her.

Before the call even connected, black spots danced across my vision, and the pavement rushed up to meet me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

"Hypothermia and a high fever," a nurse said softly.

"A stranger found you collapsed in the street and called 911. Any later, and you could’ve suffered permanent lung damage."

My body was weak and trembling.

Yet I had no time to recover. My mind was consumed by Serena’s deliberate sabotage.

My colleague sent another message: our studio’s security footage had been restored from the backup server.

The video captured Serena slipping into the private vault past midnight, methodically using a jeweler’s saw to score the metal. Every single movement was caught in high definition.

My trembling hands dialed Ethan’s number.

Only then did I notice he had called me dozens of times over the last two days.

The second he picked up, his furious roar blasted through the speaker:

"Annabelle, are you hiding from me?!"

"Serena had a massive panic attack because you smashed that frame! She was hospitalized for hyperventilation!"

"I don't care what you're doing right now. Drop everything and come apologize to Serena this instant!"

He barked the order like a commander before abruptly hanging up.

In the background before the call disconnected, I faintly heard an announcer over a PA system:

Welcome the groom to the stage.

I checked the calendar on my lock screen.

Today was supposed to be my wedding day with Ethan.

Swallowing the ache in my chest, I pulled out my IV and took a cab straight to the downtown banquet hall.

The floral arrangements, the chandeliers, the aisle—it was identical to the design I had spent six months perfecting.

Except the bride standing on that altar in a white gown was Serena.

No doubt, another crumpled IOU note was waiting for me somewhere.

Looking at this surreal, grotesque farce, I actually laughed out loud.

I walked backstage and handed a flash drive to the AV technician.

"Replace the main screen video with this file right now."

The technician stared at me, bewildered.

"Uh, but Mr. Hayes said—"

"The contract for this venue is booked entirely under my legal name."

If they felt entitled to borrow my life, my belongings, and my fiancé without shame, why couldn't I borrow a few minutes of their screen time?

The hall was packed with Ethan’s family, business partners, and all our mutual friends.

It was the perfect audience to see who Serena really was.

I stood in the wings, watching the couple on stage.

The giant LED screen flickered to life. Serena’s smile grew wider and more radiant.

Until the video feed shifted, showing her hunched over our studio workbench, picking the lock.

The laughter in the hall died instantly. Serena’s face turned paper-white.

Ethan panicked, his hands shaking as his phone buzzed in his pocket. He spotted me and yelled across the stage:

"Annabelle! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Serena just wanted to borrow the venue to experience what a luxury wedding feels like...!"

I didn't answer. I stepped directly onto the center of the stage.

In my hand, I held the forensic damage report proving deliberate sabotage.

"I just wanted to borrow a minute of your time," I said into the microphone.

"Serena, I’m sure you’re aware that malicious destruction of high-value cultural property is a felony. That carries a minimum of three years behind bars."