The flashes of the reporters’ cameras followed Ryan as he turned smoothly. Without glancing back at the McCarthys, he walked into Farrell Hall.Claudia followed him gracefully, her eyes calm, her lips pressed into a satisfied smile. The heavy glass doors of Farrell Hall opened, and the reporters surged forward, snapping more pictures, shouting questions, their voices a mixture of excitement and disbelief.“This is history in the making!” one reporter whispered to another.“Imagine, humiliating the McCarthys on their own daughter’s wedding day!” another murmured, scribbling furiously in his notepad.The murmurs grew louder, almost drowning out the sound of the music that drifted faintly from Darell Wedding Hall across the street.The McCarthys remained rooted on the spot, their faces burning red, their bodies stiff. Elizabeth’s white gown shimmered under the sun, but even its beauty could not mask the shame that now wrapped around them.Mr. McCarthy finally cleared his throat, his ches

The grand chandeliers of Darell Wedding Hall still glittered above, but they now cast their light on nothing but empty tables, overturned chairs, and wilting flower arrangements.The music had long stopped. The laughter had faded. The once-vibrant hall was now totally empty.Elizabeth stood at the center, her wedding gown pooling around her feet, its hem stained from her frantic pacing. Her face was streaked with black lines as her mascara mixed with hot, bitter tears.Her hands shook violently as she ripped off the tiara from her head and flung it across the floor. The metallic clink as it hit the tiles echoed in the silence.“This was supposed to be my day!” Elizabeth screamed, her voice hoarse. “My day! The one day I have dreamed of since I was a child, and look at it! Look at this disgrace!”Mrs. McCarthy hurried toward her, arms outstretched. “Elizabeth, please calm down, sweetheart—”“Don’t touch me!” Elizabeth snapped, jerking away, her chest heaving. She spun on her mother, he

VELBURNThe sharp hiss of the cabin doors opening echoed as passengers began to step out of the plane one after the other. Among them was Elizabeth. She wore large dark sunglasses that hid her swollen eyes, the remnants of a sleepless night. She descended the stairs slowly, stretching her stiff limbs once her heels touched the tarmac.The journey had been long—hours of sitting rigid in a seat with nothing but her own bitter thoughts to keep her company.Yet, as she inhaled the air of the new country, she whispered under her breath, almost as if assuring herself, “It will all be worth it. Every bit of this… will be worth it.”She pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders and walked toward the taxi line, her suitcase dragging behind her. The city was already buzzing awake, the streets alive with early morning vendors and the distant honking of impatient drivers. Elizabeth didn’t care about the chaos. She had one goal, one mission: find Lord Ryder.—By mid-morning, Elizabeth had arri

VELBURNElizabeth sat at the corner of the bar, her legs crossed elegantly but her nerves betraying her composure. Her eyes were fixed on the entrance, sharp and restless, darting every time the wooden door creaked open.Waiters carried drinks back and forth, glasses clinked, and laughter occasionally burst out from a group of men sitting at the far end. But Elizabeth paid no attention to any of that. For her, every sound faded into the background whenever the door moved.Her heart leaped each time it opened.She pressed her hand against her temple, muttering under her breath. “Where is she? This is supposed to be it. This is where she comes every day. She should have been here already…”The hours dragged.One by one, people came in, ordered drinks, and left again. Each time the door creaked, Elizabeth’s heart would race, and each time, disappointment washed over her.By the time the clock on the wall struck midnight, the bar had grown quieter. Elizabeth sat there still, her glass bar

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the McCarthy mansion. Mr. McCarthy sat at the head of the table, his broad chest puffed out with pride, while Mrs. McCarthy sat across from him, sipping her tea with a smug smile playing on her lips.They were both in unusually high spirits, their faces alight with the kind of confidence they had not worn in weeks.On the table lay neatly folded newspapers with Ryan’s face plastered on the front page, headlines praising his growing influence. Yet instead of angering them, it only seemed to fuel their determination.“Today,” Mr. McCarthy said, thumping the table lightly with his hand, “today is the beginning of Ryan Walker’s downfall. That boy has embarrassed us, humiliated us, stripped us of our dignity in front of the entire city. But finally—finally—we will show him that the McCarthys are not finished. He thinks himself untouchable, but he has no idea what is coming.”Mrs. McCarthy leaned forward, her pearl necklace glinting under