Chapter 2 - The Sound of Shattered Glass and Legal Reality
On the balcony, my eyes caught sight of a heavy metal bar left behind by some previous repair work. Without a second thought, I picked it up, walked back inside the living room, and smashed it directly into the center of the glass coffee table.
The deafening crash of shattering glass froze everyone in place. The shouting stopped instantly, replaced by wide-eyed shock as jagged pieces scattered across the floor.
“The next person who lays a hand on me or tries to block my way will be dealing with the police,” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
I dragged my suitcase into the elevator, my heart hammering against my ribs. Just before the doors closed, I saw Dwight standing motionless beside his father while Ryan kept recording every single second of my departure.
That afternoon, a doctor confirmed I had a severe br:uise on my cheek, a loose tooth from the impact, and a minor ear injury that required careful monitoring.
My loyal friend Amy picked me up from the clinic and drove me straight to Christopher, one of the sharpest family attorneys in the city.
In Christopher’s office, I played the video Ryan had so foolishly sent to the family group chat. It clearly captured both s:laps from multiple angles, leaving no room for denial.
“We can request an emergency protection order immediately,” Christopher said, adjusting his glasses as he watched the footage. “But what happened to the money you contributed toward the apartment and the wedding?”
“It’s sitting in a joint account that Dwight controls,” I answered, a sick feeling rising in my stomach.
“Then we need to move fast to stop him from emptying it before he receives the divorce petition,” Christopher warned, drafting the initial paperwork with ruthless efficiency.
That night, resting on the couch in Amy’s spare room, I couldn't shake a lingering suspicion. I opened Dwight’s old laptop, which he had left in my suitcase by mistake. He had given me the password months ago so I could download our engagement photos.
I clicked through his files until I found a synchronized cloud folder labeled with a single letter: “X.”
I clicked it open, and my blood ran cold.
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Inside was a high-resolution video recorded exactly one week before our wedding day.
Dwight was standing in a dimly lit hotel room, kissing Ashley, my maid of honor, with a passion he had never once shown me. Then, he whispered words that sent a chill straight through my entire body, exposing a plot so wicked it made my head spin.
