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Chapter 1: The Wedding of the Century

The salty June sea breeze swept across the perfectly manicured lawns of the Vance Estate in East Hampton. Today was the most important day of the summer for New York’s elite: the wedding of Isabella Roth and Mark Sterling.

I, Elena Vance, stood before the mirror in the bridesmaid’s dressing room, adjusting my pale pink silk dress. I was the principal bridesmaid. Ironically, I was also the sole legitimate heir to this estate, before Isabella appeared and stole it all.

“Smile, Elena,” Isabella entered, resplendent in her custom-designed Vera Wang wedding dress. She looked at my reflection in the mirror, her blue eyes gleaming with cold triumph. “It’s your sister’s happy day. Don’t make that gloomy face.”

“You’re not my sister,” I replied calmly, adjusting her bow tie.

“Oh, on paper, yes,” Isabella sneered, twirling the 5-carat diamond ring on her finger—a ring that once belonged to my mother. “Our adoptive parents, poor Mr. and Mrs. Vance, left it all to me. And Mark too. He chose me. You lost, Elena. You’re just a little mouse living off my pity in your own old house.”

I tightened my grip on the ribbon, causing Isabella to wince slightly as she struggled to breathe.

“That’s right, Isabella,” I whispered in her ear. “You have it all. My parents, my fortune, and my former fiancé. Enjoy it. Because the clock is ticking.”

Isabella brushed my hand away, adjusting her dress. “You can’t do anything. You have no money, no power. Now go outside and do your duty as a loyal dog.”

She walked out to applause. I stood alone, staring at the phone on the table. A message had just arrived: “Done. Black Swan Protocol activated.”

I smiled. It was time.

Chapter 2: The Thief of Life

The story begins five years ago. Isabella was adopted by my parents when she was 20, under the guise of being the daughter of a deceased old friend. She played the role of an innocent, hardworking, and dutiful girl perfectly.

I, their stubborn biological daughter studying law at Harvard, was gradually pushed to the sidelines. Isabella poisoned my parents’ minds with sophisticated lies: that I was addicted, that I hated them, that I was just waiting for them to die so I could take their money.

The climax was the horrific car accident two years ago. My parents died when their brakes failed on a mountain road. The police concluded it was an accident. But I knew Isabella had been in the garage the night before.

After the funeral, a new will appeared. The entire $50 million estate and control of the Vance Group were left to Isabella. I received only a meager severance payment.

And Mark… Mark Sterling, the man I loved for four years in college, the man who promised to help me through my grief, quickly fell into Isabella’s arms after only three months. He said he needed a woman “strong and influential.” In reality, he just needed the money.

I lost everything. I left, lived in seclusion, and everyone thought I had fallen apart. But they didn’t know what I had spent the last two years doing.

I hadn’t fallen apart. I had investigated.

Chapter 3: The Performance Begins

The wedding reception was as lavish as expected. 200 guests – politicians, businessmen, and elites – sat under white tents, enjoying lobster and champagne.

Mark and Isabella sat at the head table, raising their glasses in blissful celebration. They looked perfect. A new power couple of New York.

The master of ceremonies invited the bridesmaid to speak.

I took my glass and microphone and walked onto the stage. Spotlight shone directly on me. Isabella looked at me warily, her hand gripping Mark’s tightly.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” I began, my voice clear and resonant. “Today we are here to witness the union of two… extraordinary people.”

I looked down at Isabella.

“Isabella often told me that fairy tales are real. And she was right. Her story truly is a fairy tale. A poor orphan girl who entered a wealthy family, and now possesses it all.”

The audience applauded softly. Isabella’s facial muscles relaxed, thinking I had accepted my fate.

“But,” I changed my tone, colder and sharper. “Every fairy tale has monsters. And sometimes, the monster doesn’t live in the forest. It lives right in your house, sleeping in your parents’ bed, and wearing your mother’s jewelry.”

A murmur arose. Mark stood up: “Elena, you’re drunk. Get down.”

“I’m not finished,” I brushed him aside. “I have a special wedding gift for you two. A commemorative video.”

I gestured to the technician. The huge LED screen behind me lit up.

Isabella smiled, expecting romantic images.

But no.

The image that appeared was a blurry but clear black-and-white video. It was footage from a hidden security camera in my father’s study – a camera Isabella didn’t know existed because my father had installed it secretly a week before he died.

t.

In the video, Isabella is standing in front of an open safe. She’s not taking the money. She’s swapping the will files. She tears up the original will and replaces it with a forged one.

And then, she makes a phone call.

Isabella’s voice booms through the surround sound system, clear and distinct:

“Mark, it’s done. Those old folks still trust me completely. After tomorrow’s accident, everything will be ours. Remember to cut the brake lines carefully.”

The entire auditorium fell silent. 200 people held their breath. The sound of shattering glasses echoed somewhere.

Mark’s face went pale. Isabella stood frozen, her mouth agape, the glass in her hand falling to the floor and shattering.

“This… this is fake! It’s Deepfake!” Isabella screamed, her voice trembling with panic.

“That’s not all,” I continued, not giving her a chance to breathe. “Now for the second gift.”

I pressed the slide-changing button.

A series of complex cash flow diagrams and bank accounts in the Cayman Islands appeared on the screen.

“Mark Sterling,” I stared directly at the treacherous man. “You married Isabella because you thought she owned $50 million of the Vance family’s money, right? You needed that money to save your family’s company, which was on the verge of bankruptcy.”

Mark trembled.

“But you don’t know one thing,” I smiled. “My father, despite being deceived emotionally, was a financial genius. In the original will that Isabella thought she had destroyed (but in fact, my father’s private lawyer still kept a digital backup), there was a ‘Self-Destructive Activation’ clause.”

“That clause stipulates that: If the heir is not a biological child (i.e., Isabella), the entire estate will be transferred to a Blind Trust and frozen until the investigation into the deaths of the grandparents is concluded.”

I held up a file.

“This morning, based on this video evidence, the New York Supreme Court issued an emergency ruling. The will Isabella is holding is invalid. The entire Vance family estate has been frozen.”

I turned to look at Isabella, who was trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Isabella, or should I call you Sarah Jenkins? A professional con artist who was on the run in Chicago seven years ago?”

A mugshot of Isabella – under the name Sarah Jenkins – appeared on the screen. Charges: Fraud, forgery, and manslaughter.

“You don’t have a penny,” I declared. “This house isn’t yours. The dress you’re wearing isn’t paid for. And the man beside you…” I glanced at Mark. “…he’s bankrupt too. He married you for the money. And now, two penniless people are standing next to each other.”

Chapter 4: The Price to Pay

Chaos erupted.

Mark turned to look at Isabella with horror and disgust. “You… you tricked me? You don’t have any money?”

“You’re the one who’s tricked me!” Isabella screamed, lunging at Mark and scratching his face. “You promised to protect me! You’re an accomplice in murder!”

“Shut up!” Mark pushed her to the floor.

Sirens blared from the main gate. Not just one car, but a whole convoy of FBI and New York Police Department vehicles.

I stepped off the stage, weaving through the crowd that parted like waves. I walked up to Isabella, who was sitting on the ground, her wedding dress stained with mud and wine.

“You stole my parents,” I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. “You stole my youth. You stole the man I once loved. But you forgot the most basic principle of a hunter.”

Isabella looked up at me, her eyes filled with hatred and fear.

“What?” she hissed.

“Never let the prey survive,” I whispered. “Because when the prey returns, it will be the most ruthless hunter.”

The police burst in. Cold handcuffs snapped onto Mark and Isabella’s wrists.

“Isabella Roth, or Sarah Jenkins, you are arrested for first-degree murder, forgery, and fraud,” the officer read out. “Mark Sterling, you are arrested for complicity in murder and financial fraud.”

Mark cried out, “She seduced me! I’m innocent! Elena! Save me! I love you!”

I looked at Mark one last time. This man had once been my whole world. But now, he was nothing but a pathetic piece of trash.

“You loved my money, Mark,” I said. “And now you’ll have plenty of time in prison to think about its value.”

Chapter 3: True Freedom

The guests—the hypocrites who had once praised Isabella and despised me—now bowed their heads, avoiding my gaze. They feared the true power that had just risen.

I stood in the empty courtyard after the police had all left. The sea breeze still blew, but now it carried the scent of freedom.

The family lawyer approached, handing me the keys to the mansion.

“Welcome home, Ms. Vance,” he said. “Everything has been restored. She is the sole owner of the Vance Corporation.”

I took the bunch of keys. They were heavy, not because of their physical weight, but because of the weight of justice that had been served.

I gazed toward the horizon. My parents could not be brought back to life. My innocent love was dead. But I was still alive. And I would live a brilliant life.

It wasn’t for revenge anymore, but to prove that: The truth can be hidden, but it can never be extinguished.

I took off my pink bridesmaid bow and threw it to the ground, then turned and walked into my castle. The party was over. Now it was time to clean up and start again.