Bride: I don't care who you are! You're ruining my wedding!
Injured Woman: Am I ruining it, Victoria? Or am I stopping a crime?
Groom: Wait! Everyone stop!
Julian pushed past the groomsmen, his tuxedo jacket flapping as he ran down the steps. His eyes were wide with pure terror as he stared at the woman in the green coat. His breath hitched in his throat, his hands trembling at his sides.
Groom: It can't be... you died two years ago...
Injured Woman: Look at me, Julian. Look at me carefully.
The injured woman reached up to her face. With one sharp pull, she dragged down the thick medical bandages, letting them drop onto the pristine carpet. Underneath the white gauze was a deep scar running along her cheekbone, pale bruised skin, and striking green eyes that burned with absolute ice.
Groom: Clara...? Is that really you?!
Bride: Julian, don't listen to her! She's an imposter using a fake name!
Clara: Tell him the truth, Victoria. Tell him who locked me in that private clinic overseas for twenty-four months.
Bride: She's insane! Security, shoot her if you have to!
Julian: Nobody move! Touch her and you're all fired!
Julian took a shaking step forward, his eyes fixed entirely on Clara's face. He reached out a trembling hand, but Clara stepped backward, reaching deep into the pocket of her green trench coat.
Clara: Don't touch me, Julian. Not until you read what's inside here.
Julian: What is that...?
Clara: This is the leather ledger your dear fiancée tried to burn the night my car went off the bridge.
Victoria's face drained of all color. She lunged forward to grab the small book, but Julian shoved her back firmly, his grip locked onto her arm.
Julian: Victoria, stay right where you are!
Bride: Julian, please! She's trying to ruin our life! She's jealous of the Vance estate!
Clara: Open it, Julian. Turn to page forty-two. Read the signatures on the corporate trust transfer.