“I told my father about the financial trouble you were in,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You cried in my apartment, Marcus. You told me the stress was killing you. So, I went to my father. I asked him to save you. I asked him to structure a buyout that would clear your family’s debts, save your employees' jobs, and let us start our lives clean.”
I gestured to the room around us, the extravagant flowers, the crystal, the terrified faces of the elite.
“I kept my identity a secret because I wanted to surprise you,” I said, my voice finally hardening with anger. “I wanted to give you the contract on our honeymoon. I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized you were safe.”
I took a slow breath, looking from Marcus’s devastated face to Evelyn’s trembling, tear-streaked makeup.
“But you couldn’t wait,” I said. “You couldn’t handle the embarrassment of marrying a poor girl. So you schemed with your mother. You used me as a placeholder while you shopped for someone who met your financial requirements. You pushed me onto the floor to prove a point.”
“Maya, please,” Marcus begged. The tears were real now. They were flowing freely down his face, ruining his perfectly styled appearance. He dropped to his knees on the marble, right in the exact spot where he had shoved me.
He reached out, trying to grab the hem of my torn lace dress.
I stepped back, pulling the fabric out of his reach.
“I love you,” Marcus sobbed, his voice echoing pathetically in the massive, silent room. “Maya, I love you, I swear I do. My mother made me do this! She pressured me, she told me the company would go under, she said it was my duty to the family! It wasn’t my idea!”
“Marcus!” Evelyn shrieked, entirely betrayed by her own son. “How dare you! You agreed to it! You were the one who picked Chloe out of the catalog!”
“Shut up!” Marcus screamed back at her, his face red and wet. He looked back up at me, clasping his hands together like a beggar. “Maya, baby, look at me. It’s me. It’s your Marcus. We can fix this. I don’t want Chloe. I want you. We can continue the ceremony right now. Please. Tell your father to reinstate the deal.”
I looked down at him. Two years of memories flashed through my mind. The late nights laughing in my kitchen, the walks through the park, the promises he made.
It was all ashes now.
“You’re pathetic,” I said quietly.
Marcus froze, the desperate plea dying in his throat.
“You don’t love me,” I said. “You don’t even know what love is. You love this.” I waved my hand at the cathedral, the suits, the luxury. “And now, you don’t even have that.”
I turned my back on him.
I looked at Richard, the CFO, who was standing in the front row, looking like a man waiting for the executioner's axe.
“Mr. CFO,” I said clearly.