Part 2: The Audie Award of Vengeance
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The sudden silence in the glass pavilion was heavy, broken only by the soft clinking of champagne flutes and the rustle of silk as three hundred of the city’s elite turned their heads.
My husband—no, my ex-husband, Julian—stood frozen at the altar. His pristine white tuxedo, meant to symbolize a fresh, glamorous beginning, suddenly looked like a shroud. Beside him, his mistress and now-bride, Chloe, clutched her bridal bouquet so tightly that the stems of the white orchids snapped in her manicured hands.
“Julian?” Chloe’s voice whispered through her lapel microphone, echoing slightly through the high-end sound system. “What is this? Who let her in?”
Julian stepped down from the altar, his boots clicking sharply against the marble floor. He tried to maintain his composure, flashing a tight, public-relations smile to the guests while walking toward me. But as he drew closer, I could see the sweat glistening on his forehead.
