Chapter 3: The Interrogation
Chaos reigned in the sanctuary. The priest had retreated to the back of the altar, crossing himself repeatedly. Guests were shouting, arguing, and calling their lawyers and publicists. The billionaire family’s darkest secrets were bleeding out onto the polished marble, and there was no putting the genie back in the bottle.
"Into the bridal suite. Now," Liam commanded. He wasn't asking. He wrapped his arm tightly around Maya's waist and practically carried her down the side aisle toward the private dressing rooms. He glared back at his parents. "Both of you. Before I call the police."
The heavy oak door of the bridal suite slammed shut, cutting off the deafening noise of the crowd outside. The room, which just an hour ago had been filled with champagne, laughter, and bridesmaids, now felt like a prison cell.
Maya collapsed onto a velvet sofa, pulling her knees to her chest. She felt entirely numb. The woman who had spent the last twelve months making her life a living hell—mocking her background, criticizing her clothes, and ultimately ripping her wedding dress in front of three hundred people—was claiming to be her mother. It was too twisted, too sick to comprehend.
"Explain," Liam said. He stood in the center of the room, blocking the door. He looked from Robert to Eleanor. "Explain right now, or I swear to God, I will walk out that door and tell the press everything you just said."
Robert adjusted his cuffs, his face regaining its arrogant, icy composure. "This is absurd. Your mother is off her medication. She has always been prone to histrionics. This girl is a con artist. She probably found out about the birthmark from some old medical record and had it tattooed on herself to orchestrate this exact moment. She wants our money, Liam."
"It's not a tattoo," Maya said quietly, her voice trembling but finding its strength. "A dermatologist looked at it when I was twelve because they thought it might be melanoma. It's a vascular birthmark. It’s been there since the day I was born."
Eleanor walked slowly toward the sofa, her hands raised defensively. She looked terrified to even breathe too heavily in Maya's direction. "Maya... did your adoptive parents give you a necklace? A tiny, silver locket with a broken clasp?"
Maya’s breath hitched. She reached instinctively toward her chest, though she wasn't wearing the necklace today. "Yes. They told me I was wearing it when I was dropped off at the agency."
"I put it around your neck," Eleanor wept, falling to her knees in front of the sofa. "While the nurse wasn't looking. It was my grandmother's. I wanted you to have something from me, just in case... I don't know why, I just felt something terrible was going to happen."
May you like
Liam felt the room spinning. He looked at his hands, at his reflection in the grand mirror. If Maya was Eleanor's biological daughter... who the hell was he?
"Dad," Liam said, turning his piercing gaze to Robert. "If she is your daughter... then who am I?"
