Today was that moment.
Rafe stepped forward, shedding the filthy jacket like it was nothing. Underneath, though still dirty, his posture was that of a king.
“Julian Reyes,” he said, voice carrying to every corner of the cathedral, “you wanted a show. Let’s give them one.”
He pulled out his phone and tapped once. Every screen in the cathedral—phones, the large monitors set up for the ceremony, even the live broadcast—suddenly switched from the wedding feed to a devastating presentation.
Documents. Bank records. Voice recordings. Video evidence.
ulian’s voice played clearly: ordering the sabotage of the Montalban yacht. Ordering the destruction of Clara’s father’s company. Bribery. Money laundering. Tax evasion on a massive scale. Even the “donation” he had just promised for Clara’s mother had never been transferred—it was a lie.
