Chapter 2
The silence that followed Mark’s reaction was deafening, broken only by the distant, muted murmur of organ music drifting up from the chapel below. Mark’s eyes darted frantically toward the door, then back to Elena, the arrogant facade completely stripped away, leaving behind a desperate stranger.
"You went through my private desk?" Mark whispered, his voice dangerously low. "That journal was locked, Elena. It contained proprietary business notes from the firm. How did you even open it?"
"A desk drawer lock is nothing when you're looking for honesty from the man you're about to marry," Elena replied, stepping closer, holding his gaze with unflinching resolve. The white and pink roses in her left hand trembled, but her stance remained rock solid. "Julian didn't die in a climbing accident, did he? Or if he did, the timeline you gave the police was a complete fabrication. Because this letter, written in his precise handwriting, was dated three days ago. Three days ago, Mark. He was alive, and you knew it."
Mark swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. He took a cautious step forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture that felt entirely rehearsed. "Elena, you are spinning a conspiracy out of grief. Julian’s death destroyed me. The police investigated everything. The handwriting... handwriting can be imitated, or you're simply misinterpreting what you're seeing. Let's just get through the ceremony. We can talk about my brother's old papers tonight, after the reception."
"Stop lying to me!" Elena's voice rose sharply, echoing off the high plaster ceilings. The control she had maintained all morning fractured completely. "Julian wrote that he was coming back to reclaim his life, his work, and the woman who was promised to him before the 'accident' silenced him. Those were his exact words. Now tell me the truth, Mark, or I walk down these stairs right now and tell every single guest that there is no wedding."
Mark’s expression hardened from panic to cold malice. The mask was completely gone now, revealing the ruthless corporate strategist he truly was. He closed the remaining distance between them in two swift strides, grabbing her wrist just above the lace cuff of her gown.
"You won't walk out that door," Mark hissed, leaning in close so his breath brushed her ear. "Because if you ruin this wedding, you don't just destroy my reputation. You destroy your family's entire financial foundation. My firm owns your father's debt, Elena. Every single penny."
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Elena stared at him in utter disbelief, the room spinning slightly as the man she thought she knew revealed his true, predatory nature. Before she could process the threat or pull her arm away, a sharp, distinct three-knock rap echoed from the adjoining suite door. Both of them turned their heads in unison toward the sound.
The doorknob slowly began to turn, clicking open from the inside.
