I ignored him, took a deep breath, and spoke two words into the microphone. Loudly, clearly, so that everyone in the hall could hear: “The game is over!”
A second of deafening silence. It seemed as if the air itself had frozen. And then the hall erupted. Guests whispered in confusion. Someone jumped to their feet. The musicians looked at the conductor, lost.
My father, Andrei Nikolaevich, turned white as a sheet but didn’t move. But Igor Belozorov, Vladimir’s father, shot up, his face twisting into a furious mask.
Vladimir grabbed my elbow, his fingers digging into my skin like pincers. “What the hell are you doing, you bitch!” he roared in my face, forgetting all decorum. His perfect groom mask cracked and crumbled. “You decided to disgrace me? Me?”
“Disgrace you?” I smirked coldly. “I’m just setting the record straight, Vladimir.”
At that moment, Igor Stanislavovich rushed over. He was shorter, but he radiated such a wave of power and menace that people instinctively parted before him. “To the bridal suite, now!” he ordered.
Two guards in impeccable suits pushed back the curious onlookers. Vladimir dragged me along. I didn’t resist. The white dress caught on the carpet, the train dragging along the floor like a broken wing.
The door slammed shut behind us. The room was filled with flowers and bottles of champagne. The perfect place for a wedding night. Or an interrogation.
Vladimir threw my hand away. “Explain this circus! Have you lost your mind?” “You explain it to me,” I replied calmly, leaning against the wall. “What was that news about my father’s bankruptcy you whispered to me at the altar?”
Igor Belozorov stepped forward, his small eyes drilling into me. “Girl, you don’t understand who you’ve messed with,” his voice was quiet, but it rang with steel. “This was a business deal. Your father went bankrupt. The deal is off. You were supposed to leave quietly, with a small compensation for moral damages, but instead, you made a scene.”
“A scene?” I laughed. “Igor Stanislavovich, you’re the one who made a scene! A hostile takeover of another’s business, forged documents, pressure on partners. Did you think no one would notice? Did you think my father was an old fool you could wrap around your finger?”
The elder Belozorov frowned. He hadn’t expected such words. “How did you…?” he began. “How do I know?” I straightened up. “What do you think? Did you seriously believe I was marrying your son for love? I agreed to this farce only to get closer to you, to understand how you operate. And you didn’t disappoint. Your scheme was primitive, but audacious.”
Vladimir’s face twisted. “So, you were playing a game this whole time?” “Vladimir, just like you. Only I, unlike you, knew the rules. Now listen to me carefully, both of you. In ten minutes, my lawyer will hand over the first set of documents to the prosecutor’s office. It concerns the withdrawal of assets through your offshore companies.”
Igor Belozorov smirked, but a shadow of concern flickered in his eyes. “You have nothing, empty threats. We will grind your family into dust.” “It’s you who still doesn’t understand, Igor Stanislavovich,” I looked him straight in the eye, putting all the coldness I could muster into my voice. “Dust is the best you can hope for now. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to change. This dress is terribly uncomfortable.”
I walked out of the hall of shame in a simple blue dress I had thoughtfully left in the coatroom. I threw the veil and wedding gown on the floor of that so-called bridal suite.
My father was waiting for me at the exit. Silently. His face was gray, his eyes a mixture of fear, confusion, and something else I couldn’t quite make out…
Comments are closed.