Chapter 12
Inside the grand ballroom, the chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over hundreds of elite guests dining on exquisite courses and laughing softly to the gentle strains of classical music. Vivienne moved among the tables like royalty, her elaborate white wedding gown trailing gracefully behind her, her smile immaculate and charming as she accepted endless praise from influential politicians and corporate titans. Yet beneath the radiant facade, her mind was calculating with rapid, ruthless precision. The missing audio recorder had not been recovered by staff, and the lingering delay in Marcus’s radio check-in gnawed at her composure.
She excused herself gracefully from a conversation with a prominent senator, turning toward the private parlor near the east wing where the master estate controls were housed. As she glided past the heavy velvet drapes, a tall, imposing figure stepped smoothly into her path, blocking the corridor. It was Julian. He looked impeccably handsome in his formal tuxedo, but his expression was entirely unreadable—devoid of the warm affection she had manipulated so effectively throughout their courtship. Vivienne paused, her internal alarms flaring, though her facial micro-expressions remained perfectly controlled, trained to project serene innocence.
"Darling," Vivienne murmured softly, tilting her head with a practiced, endearing smile. "Shouldn’t you be inside with the guests? People are asking for the first dance." Julian did not smile back. He stood his ground, his hands resting calmly in his pockets, blocking her access to the control room entirely. "The music can wait, Vivienne," Julian replied, his voice frighteningly quiet in the empty corridor. "I think we need to talk about Clara Hayes. I hear she had a rather unfortunate accident on the rectory stairs this morning."
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Vivienne’s eyes flickered for a fraction of a second—a micro-expression of sudden, sharp realization that her carefully constructed narrative had been compromised. But she recovered instantly, letting out a soft, melodramatic sigh of theatrical concern. "Clara? Oh, Julian, it was so tragic. She was drinking heavily before the ceremony, completely unstable, and she slipped. I tried so hard to catch her, but she pulled away." Julian stared at her, the sheer audacity of the lie chilling him to his core. He pulled his smartphone from his pocket, tapping the screen to let the raw, unedited audio play softly into the open air between them.
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