Chapter 3
The walk down the center aisle felt like traversing a mile of broken glass. Every eye in the cathedral was fixed on Julian, a mix of condemnation and morbid curiosity hanging heavy in the air. Elena stood trembling in her heavy white gown, her veil pushed back to reveal a face distorted by rage and devastation. Her mother stood protectively in front of her, glaring at Julian as if he were holding a weapon.
"Keep away from her," Elena’s mother snarled, her voice sharp and unforgiving. "You’ve done enough damage for one lifetime, Julian. Whatever sick game you’re playing ends right now. You are walking out of this church, and you will never speak to my daughter again."
"No, mother. Let him speak," Elena said, her voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. She pushed past her mother, stepping directly into Julian’s path. The height difference was bridged by her heels, putting her face inches from his. "Look me in the eye, Julian, and tell me why you ruined our lives. Tell everyone."
Julian didn’t flinch. He looked down at the woman he had shared a home with for two years, searching her features for any sign of remorse, but finding only cold fury. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter, holding it out between them like a shield.
"It’s about what happened five years ago in Savannah," Julian said softly.
The color drained from Elena’s face instantly. The defiant fire in her dark eyes flickered and died, replaced by a sudden, frantic panic. She took a half-step back, her hands flying to her mouth. The congregation fell into a hush so profound that the hum of the cathedral’s air conditioning sounded like a roaring engine.
"I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about," Elena stammered, her voice losing its fierce edge. "Savannah? We didn’t even know each other five years ago. We met in Chicago!"
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"That’s what you told me," Julian replied, his voice steady. "That’s what you wrote on your dating profile, on your resume, and in every story you told me about your past. You painted a picture of a sweet, innocent art student trying to make her way in the Midwest. But this letter tells a very different story. It details a hit-and-run accident on Oak Street, a little girl left behind in the dark, and a cover-up orchestrated by a woman named Elena Vance."
Elena swayed on her feet, grabbing onto a wooden pew for support. The silence in the church was deafening. Marcus stepped up beside Julian, holding the letter aloft for anyone in the front rows to see.
