Chapter 217: Unraveling The Façade (Rewrite)

Chapter 217: Chapter 217: Unraveling The Façade (Rewrite)

The heavy silence that followed Aliya’s declaration was suffocating. High-ranking government ministers exchanged wide-eyed glances, corporate executives leaned in to murmur behind raised champagne flutes, and the string quartet on the balcony sat frozen, bows hovering above their instruments.

Down in the alumni section, Mark and Daniel sat with their mouths half-open, staring down the red carpet in sheer disbelief.

"Holy shit," Mark whispered, leaning over toward Jake and Catharine. "An actual objection? I mean, honestly, given how Alex operated back in university, is anyone really surprised a scandal hit his wedding?"

Daniel squinted, tilting his head as he studied the back of Aliya’s posture in the center aisle. "Wait a second... doesn’t she look kind of familiar to you guys?"

Jake leaned back into his chair, his expression completely relaxed as if he were just another spectator enjoying the drama unfolding on stage. "Well, it’s a former classmate’s wedding," Jake commented smoothly, his voice light and unbothered. "A lot of people here are bound to look familiar."

Daniel chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "I suppose so. Still, I knew the Livingstons were pushing their luck trying to pull off this grand merger, but I didn’t expect someone to crash the altar like this. Alex looks like he’s about to throw up."

"When you leave loose ends behind, they usually come back to bite you," Jake added casually, adjusting his cufflink.

Catharine glanced at Jake from the corner of her eye, holding back a faint smirk, before turning her attention back toward the center aisle.

Near the side walls, two freelance journalists who had been quietly invited by the Brodick PR team to cover the high-society union were practically drooling. They instinctively reached inside their blazer pockets, subtly adjusting the small lenses of their handheld recorders, realizing they were sitting on the biggest scandal of the corporate year.

"Are you getting this audio?" one reporter muttered under his breath, his thumb hovering over the record switch. "This is absolute gold. The Livingston-Brodick merger is going to crash before the reception even starts."

"Forget the audio, check the front rows," the second journalist whispered back frantically, angling his phone camera below his coat pocket. "The Commerce Minister is sitting right there. If this girl drops actual evidence, Livingston Group stock is going to open down thirty percent on Monday."

Before Alex could even react on stage, Anna Brodick lifted the heavy train of her ivory mermaid gown and stepped down the altar stairs. Her sharp heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she marched straight up to Aliya, her eyes burning with pure arrogance and cold disdain.

"I don’t know what asylum you escaped from, but you are out of your mind," Anna sneered, coming to a halt just two feet from Aliya. She raised her hand, pointing a manicured, diamond-adorned finger directly at Aliya’s face. "You’re just some pathetic, desperate ex-girlfriend who couldn’t handle getting left behind. Look around you. Look at these people. You don’t belong in this room, and you certainly don’t belong in Alex’s life. Security, get this creature out of my sight before she ruins my carpet!"

Aliya didn’t shrink back. She held Anna’s glare with a cold, unflinching stillness, her posture straight and her chin held high. She hadn’t come here to cause a mindless scene. She had driven to the Grand Pavilion carrying months of unanswered questions—demanding to know why Alex had put her through absolute hell, ruined her health, and discarded her like trash, only to turn around and play the perfect gentleman for a corporate alliance.

"You think this is about a breakup, Anna?" Aliya asked, her voice carrying a quiet, terrifying clarity that reached the first few rows.

She turned her eyes past Anna, locking them directly on Alex, who stood frozen on the steps.

"I mean, look at you, Alex," Aliya said, a faint, mocking tilt to her head and a dry smirk playing on her lips. "You’re getting married today, and you didn’t even send me an invite? After everything we went through, I really thought I made the VIP list. I’m almost hurt."

Alex swallowed hard, his throat dry as he gestured nervously. "Aliya... why are you even here?!"

"Oh, don’t mind me. I just came to witness the man I loved get married," Aliya replied smoothly, her tone light and dripping with sarcasm. "I brought my best applause and everything."

Alex’s eyes narrowed, his hands trembling as he called her bluff. "Don’t give me that! If you were just here to watch, you wouldn’t have objected to the wedding!"

"Honestly? I don’t care about your wedding," Aliya stated flatly, waving a dismissive hand like she was brushing away a fly. "The floral arrangements are lovely, truly, but I only came here for answers."

Alex stared at her in utter bewilderment, his panic twisting into raw frustration. "Answers?! You picked now for this nonsense? Right in the middle of my ceremony?!" He couldn’t wrap his head around why she would pick the most inconvenient, high-profile moment of his life just to demand a chat.

Before Alex could spiral any further, Aliya’s playful expression evaporated, dropping the sarcastic front entirely as her eyes turned to ice.

"I came here for an answer, Alex. Look me in the eye and tell me why. Why did you force me into that backstreet clinic? Why did you make me promise that it was the only way to save our future, just to turn around and sell yourself to the Brodicks?"

Alex’s face drained of all color, sweat visibly beading along his hairline. He took a frantic step forward, his hands trembling as he gestured wildly toward the surrounding guests.

"Aliya, please! Stop this!" Alex pleaded, his voice high-pitched and laced with sheer panic. He didn’t answer her. He couldn’t. His eyes darted frantically toward the Ministers and CEOs in the first row, completely obsessed with saving face. "This isn’t the place for your delusions! Anna, don’t listen to her! She’s crazy! Everyone, please, sit down—this is just a minor misunderstanding! We can resume the vows in two minutes!"

"A misunderstanding?" Aliya let out a soft, bitter laugh that cut through his frantic rambling. "Oh, my mistake. I thought forcing someone into a backstreet clinic was a major decision, but I guess it was just a tiny clerical error on your end. You can’t even answer me, can you? Even now, with everything exposed, all you care about is keeping those state contracts."

Seeing her son crumbling under the weight of the confrontation, Mrs. Livingston stepped down from the front row. Dressed in a lace floor-length gown, she smoothed her diamond necklace and inserted herself directly between Aliya and the stage, her face twisted in sneering condescension.

"Listen to me, young lady," Mrs. Livingston hissed in a low, vicious whisper, pulling a leather chequebook from her designer clutch. She uncapped a gold pen with a swift snap. "I don’t care what fairytale Alex fed you during university. You are nothing to this family. Name your price and walk out those doors right now. Ten thousand? Fifty thousand? Write the number down and shut your mouth before I have you thrown in jail for harassment."

Aliya looked down at the chequebook, raising an eyebrow with an amused, incredulous scoff before meeting Mrs. Livingston’s glare.

"Fifty thousand?" Aliya said, her voice dripping with sharp, mocking irony. "Wow. Generous. Should I write you a receipt, Mrs. Livingston? Or does fifty grand cover the lifetime damage fee in your world?"

Before the older woman could speak, Aliya’s sarcastic tone dropped into a hard, sharp edge that made Mrs. Livingston flinch. "You’re a woman, Mrs. Livingston. You know what it means to carry life, and you know what it means to have that taken away. Yet here you are, trying to bribe and silence me to protect a coward. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

Mrs. Livingston’s face flushed dark red, completely humiliated in front of the entire room. Realizing she couldn’t silence Aliya or buy her off, she turned toward the side halls in a desperate attempt to salvage the evening.

"Security!" Mrs. Livingston shrieked, her voice shrill as she gestured wildly. "Where are you?! Get this woman out of here right now!"

"I asked you a question, Alex!" Aliya cut across his mother, her voice echoing off the high-arched ceiling as she bypassed Mrs. Livingston entirely, staring right at the groom. "Why did you do it?!"

From the side corridors, two tall venue guards in formal blazers finally moved in on Mrs. Livingston’s orders, stepping briskly down the red carpet toward Aliya, their hands reaching out to grab her by the arms.

Before their fingers could touch her clothing, a towering figure stepped out from the shadows near the rear aisle columns. Kovacs, Aliya’s personal bodyguard, moved with terrifying efficiency. He grabbed the first guard’s wrist, twisting it sharply to drop the man to his knees with a muffled groan, while slamming his open palm against the second guard’s chest, sending him sprawling back three feet onto the marble floor.

Mrs. Livingston gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a landed fish as she watched both venue guards get effortlessly dismantled in under two seconds by a single man. "Useless!" she choked out under her breath, clutching her diamond necklace in sheer disbelief. "Absolute useless incompetence! What are we even paying this venue for?!"

Gasps of terror and shock erupted through the front rows. Guests stood up from their chairs, pushing back in panic as the high-society wedding devolved into a tense, dangerous standoff.

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