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Chapter 5 - The Screening

The room went dead silent, save for the hum of the air conditioner.

On the screen, Ellen appeared, holding the small, velvet-lined heirloom box containing her late mother’s pearl necklace—a gift she had saved for Michael’s bride. Then came Michael and Cassandra.

The video had no audio, but the violence was undeniable.

The guests watched in horrified fascination as Cassandra slammed the velvet box out of Ellen’s hands, sending the pearls scattering across the floor. They saw Michael step forward, not to defend his mother, but to block the exit. They saw Cassandra lean in, her face contorted in rage, pointing her finger at my wife's face.

And then came the shove.

A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom as Michael seized his mother’s arm, twisting it, before shoving her with full force into the stone wall. On the high-definition screen, Ellen’s head struck the molding, and she collapsed heavily onto the marble floor.

The camera caught every detail: Cassandra leaning over my groaning, injured wife, mouthing words of pure venom, before deliberately kicking Ellen’s dropped shoe down the hallway as she and Michael turned their backs and walked away.

The video paused on a freeze-frame of Ellen lying alone on the cold floor, clutching her bruised arm.

In the ballroom, several women covered their mouths in horror. Arthur Vale stood frozen, his champagne glass hovering inches from his lips, his face draining of all color.

I picked up the microphone again. My voice was entirely devoid of emotion, as cold as a grave.

"That is my wife," I said into the microphone, pointing at the frozen image on the screen. "That is the woman who raised the groom. And those are the two people who expect me to finance their luxury lifestyle."

Michael stood frozen in the center aisle, his face ghastly white, sweating profusely. "Dad... Dad, please... let me explain..."

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Cassandra screamed, her regal composure completely shattering. "Turn it off! Turn it off right now! This is illegal! You can't show this!"

"I can," I replied smoothly. "Because I paid for the venue, I paid for the cameras, and as of this exact moment, I own everything you thought was yours."

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