Chapter 2 - The Glowing Screen
The blue light from the unknown phone cast an eerie, clinical glow across Daniel’s tuxedo lapel. The chapel fell into a dead, suffocating silence, broken only by the erratic hum of the overhead chandeliers. Elena’s hands flew to her pearl necklace, her fingers clawing at the clasp as if it were choking her.
"It’s just a burner phone, Daniel," Elena stammered, her voice losing its polished composure entirely. "My assistant... it’s for event planning. You know how chaotic this wedding logistics coordination has been."
Sophie buried her face against her father’s arm, her small shoulders shaking. "She was texting a strange man this morning in the dressing room, Daddy. She said she had to make sure the package was delivered before you said I do."
Daniel didn’t look at Elena. His thumb grazed the glowing screen of the second phone. The incoming text message flashed boldly across the lock screen: The bride is trapped at the altar. Did you wipe the joint bank accounts yet?
Daniel’s blood ran cold. The man he had loved for two years, the woman he was about to pledge his entire life to, stood frozen ten feet away. The wedding guests seated in the polished mahogany pews began to whisper, craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the drama unfolding near the altar.
"Whose account, Elena?" Daniel asked, his voice dropping into a register so chilling that even the minister stepped back from the pulpit.
Elena swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward the heavy exit doors. "It’s a misunderstanding. Please, Daniel, trust me. Don't ruin our day over a sick prank cooked up by a child who doesn't want a stepmother."
"Don't you dare talk about my daughter that way," Daniel snapped, stepping forward with a menacing grace. He unlocked the phone using a pattern he had accidentally glimpsed weeks ago on Elena’s tablet.
Scroll by scroll, the truth unspooled before his eyes. There were text messages, encrypted chat logs, and financial transfer confirmations totaling hundreds of thousands of dollars—all draining directly from his personal corporate accounts into an offshore registry.
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Daniel stopped scrolling when he saw a photo sent less than an hour ago. It was a picture of him and Sophie standing outside the chapel, captioned with three chilling words: Almost yours, boss.
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