"You mean at all?" Evelyn snapped. "You mean I was supposed to walk down that aisle, kiss a liar, and spend the rest of my life in a marriage built on pity and betrayal?"
Silence.
And then Evelyn turned, lifting her chin.
"To those of you who came out of genuine love—thank you. Go home. Raise your glasses elsewhere."
She paused. "To those who came to watch the Carters put on another perfect display? Congratulations. You got a much better ending than you expected."
Then she walked out.
Not another word.
Not another glance.
Just the echo of her heels, louder than applause.
____
The ballroom was quiet now, the hum of shocked whispers finally fading into stunned silence. The guests had trickled out one by one, some murmuring awkward apologies, others casting thinly veiled glances of pity or disdain. Staff moved like ghosts around her, cleaning spilled champagne and discarded petals, their eyes careful not to meet hers.
Evelyn stood alone on the edge of the grand staircase, her once pristine wedding dress stained with shame and heartbreak. The train pooled around her feet like the remains of a dream she had spent years crafting, only to watch it unravel in seconds. Her spine was straight, her expression unreadable.
She had not cried in front of them—not when she flung open the door to her bridal suite and found Daniel and Liliana locked in betrayal. Not when she marched down the aisle and exposed them in front of hundreds. Not when her mother whispered, "Evelyn, must you be so dramatic?" Not even when her father looked at her with those empty, calculating eyes.
But now, the guests gone and the stage collapsed, she was a woman with no script, no spotlight, and no mask left to wear.
"Evelyn."
Her father's voice cut through the silence, deep and controlled like always. She turned, stiffly, to find him standing at the base of the staircase. He hadn't changed out of his suit. The navy fabric was unwrinkled, his tie still perfect. He looked untouched by the chaos, untouched by her humiliation.
"You wanted a private word?" she asked, descending with careful grace, holding the railing to steady herself. Her legs still trembled, but she refused to let him see that.
"Let's not do this here," he said, already walking away.
She followed him into a side room off the hall—a mahogany-walled lounge used for cigar breaks and private conversations. The door shut with a soft click, sealing them in.
For a long moment, he said nothing. He simply looked at her with an expression she couldn't read—not disappointment, not concern. Something colder. Something older.
"You humiliated this family," he said at last, voice quiet, razor-sharp.
Evelyn blinked. "I exposed a betrayal."
"You caused a scene," he corrected. "One that the press will eat alive. You think you've punished Daniel and Liliana? All you've done is taint our name."
She laughed bitterly. "Our name was tainted the moment you let them walk over me."
"I didn't let anything happen."
"You knew!" Her voice cracked. "You knew, and you did nothing. You let me walk down that aisle thinking I was marrying a man who loved me. Why?"
"Because it was easier," he said flatly. "Because you don't make things easy, Evelyn. You never have."
She stepped back, reeling. "Excuse me?"
He turned his back to her, walking toward the liquor cabinet, pouring himself a scotch. His hands were steady, deliberate. "You're difficult. Cold. You walk around like you're above everyone. Daniel—flawed as he is—was willing to play his part. Liliana... knows how to make people love her. You do not."
"I was never trying to make anyone love me," she spat.
"Exactly." He turned to face her again. "That's the problem."
Her throat tightened, breath catching in her chest. "So I'm the problem."
He didn't deny it.
"Say it," she dared. "Say it to my face."
He took a sip, then lowered the glass. "You're unlovable, Evelyn."
The words hit like a slap.
"You don't let anyone in. You're obsessed with control. You walk through life like it owes you something for trying so hard. But effort doesn't make you lovable. Warmth does. Kindness. Vulnerability."
She stared at him, stunned. "You think I don't feel? That I don't hurt?"
"I think you've spent your entire life trying to prove you're better than everyone else," he said, his tone eerily calm. "And that kind of pride doesn't leave room for love."
Her nails dug into the lace of her ruined gown. "So that's what you tell yourself? To justify why you never protected me?"
"I protected this family," he said.
"No. You protected them. The liars. The cheaters." Her voice rose, trembling with fury. "You let me be sacrificed. You let them rip me apart because I wasn't sweet and small like Liliana. Because I was inconvenient."
He drained his glass and set it down. "You always wanted to lead, Evelyn. You always wanted to play in a man's world. Well, welcome to it. This is what it costs."
There it was.
The truth she'd always suspected.
This wasn't about love. It was never about love. It was about control, image, legacy.
And she was a flaw in his perfect portrait.
She turned and walked to the door.
But just as she reached for the handle, her hand froze.
Don't cry.
Not here. Not in front of him.
"Goodbye, Evelyn," her father said.
She walked out without a word.
---
Later That Night
The penthouse suite Eleanor had secured for her was pristine and quiet. A cold moonlight poured in through the tall windows, illuminating the white walls and untouched furniture.
Evelyn stepped out of her heels, walking barefoot across the marble floor. She peeled off her wedding dress slowly, as if shedding a second skin. Her hands shook as she unfastened the buttons, her breath shallow. When the last layer fell, she stood in her slip, staring at her reflection in the mirror.