Chapter 11 - The Confrontation
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Richard recovered from his shock, his panic instantly hardening into a mask of furious, desperate rage. He marched down the center aisle toward me, his heavy footsteps echoing in the dead silence of the ballroom.
"What are you doing here, Margaret?" he hissed in a low, threatening tone as he stopped two feet away from me. "You need to leave right now. Security is on their way."
"Security?" I tilted my head, looking at him with genuine amusement. "Why would I leave my late father's hotel account rehearsal? After all, every single white rose in this room was paid for with money stolen from his company."
Savannah stormed up behind him, her eyes wide with frantic, indignant anger. She adjusted the massive diamond necklace around her neck—another piece stolen from my family's vault—and pointed a trembling, manicured finger at my face.
"Have some dignity, you crazy bitch!" Savannah shrieked, her delicate, victim act slipping for a fraction of a second. "You ruined my life once! You killed my baby! Get out of my wedding before I call the police!"
I shifted my cold, flat gaze to her. I didn't yell. I didn't raise my voice. I spoke clearly enough for the entire first three rows of guests to hear every single word.
"You built a shallow grave for an imaginary child, Savannah," I said, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "And you threw me inside it while you used my mother's jewelry to buy your way into high society."
Savannah’s face drained of color. She took a involuntary step back, her hand instinctively flying to her throat.
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Richard stepped between us, puffing out his chest, trying to loom over me. "I can destroy you, Margaret. You're on parole. One word from me to your parole officer, and you'll spend the rest of your life in a concrete cell."
"You used your best lie two years ago, Richard," I replied, stepping closer until I could smell the sharp scent of his fear. "And today, I brought the truth."
