The Secret Heiress Pretended to be Poor, Now She's Out for Blood

I stepped inside the cathedral wearing my white wedding gown. I was excited to finally marry the love of my life Jules but as I looked down the aisle, hoping to see him waiting for me

Someone else was standing there my adopted sister Claudia.

I do! Jules responded, kissing Claudias knuckles.

Jules? I called out as I walked the aisle.

Guests turned to look at me, their faces pale, whispering behind their hands.

"Hannah," he sighed, dropping Claudia's hands. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? This is my wedding!"

"Keep your voice down. You're making a scene."

Claudia hid behind his arm. She looked down, her shoulders shaking. Fake tears. Always the fragile victim.

"Why is she in a wedding dress? Why are you standing with her?"

He adjusted his tie, his face cold. "Claudia and I are getting married today."

The words hit me like a physical blow.

"What?" I gasped.

"Shes pregnant, Hannah," Jules said flatly. "The baby isn't mine. But the father ran off. You know how high society is. If she has a bastard child, her reputation is ruined. She needs a legal husband to protect her status."

"Her status?" I repeated, the words tasting like ash.

"Yes. The Kensington name needs to be protected.

The Kensington name.

My name.

I stared at Claudia. She looked down, playing with the diamond necklace around her throat. My mothers necklace. The one she had 'borrowed' for a party last week.

"I'm so sorry, sister," Claudia whispered. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But Jules is so kind. He couldn't just let me be destroyed. You know I've always been fragile."

Fragile.

She was a leech.

My parents took her in when she was ten. A charity case. I shared my room, my toys, my life with her.

But that wasn't enough.

I wanted real love. Real loyalty. So I hid my inheritance. I lived in a tiny apartment. I worked a normal job. I told Jules I was just the poor adopted one, to see if he would stay.

He stayed. Or so I thought.

While I played the pauper, Claudia played the princess. She used my family's wealth. She attended the elite galas. She let everyoneincluding Julesbelieve she was the true billionaire heiress.

She didn't just steal my groom. She stole my identity. And Jules was marrying her because of his own greed.

"So you're marrying her?" I whispered. "To protect her?"

"It's just paper," Jules said, stepping closer, lowering his voice. "Don't be so dramatic. I still love you. But Claudia needs this more than you do right now."

My blood turned to ice.

"Go home, Hannah," he continued. "Wait for me. Three years. Once the baby is older and the scandal dies down, well divorce. We can be together in secret until then. Just let her have this day. Stop being so selfish."

Selfish.

I looked at the man I had loved for four years. I looked at the sister I had protected.

He didnt love me. He never did. He loved the fake heiress standing next to him. He was trading me for what he thought was a billionaires fortune.

"You want me to be your secret?" I asked, my voice eerily calm now.

"It's three years," he sighed, rubbing his temples like I was a burden. "If you really love me, you'll understand."

Claudia touched his arm. "Don't be mad at her, Jules. Hannah has always been jealous of me. She can't help it."

I almost laughed.

I looked at the altar. At the flowers I picked. At the priest standing awkwardly in the corner.

Everything was a lie.

I reached up and unpinned my veil. It fell to the marble floor like a ghost.

"Hannah, what are you doing?" Jules frowned.

"I'm leaving," I said flatly.

"Good," he muttered. "Use the side door. Don't ruin the photos."

I didn't cry. The pain was there, sharp and suffocating, but I swallowed it down. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of my tears.

"You can have him, Claudia," I said. My voice was loud enough for the front rows to hear. "You deserve each other."

Juless face darkened. "Hannah, don't push it."

"Three years?" I looked at him, my eyes dead. "Don't bother. We're done."

I turned my back on them.

"You'll regret this!" Jules called out behind me. "You have nothing without me!"

I kept walking.

Before I could push the heavy oak open, a hand slammed flat against the wood, blocking my exit.

Mark. Juless best man. Behind him stood the rest of the groomsmen. They had always hated me. To them, I was just the poor, clingy charity case dragging their friend down.

"Not so fast, wedding crasher," Mark sneered.

"Move," I commanded.

"You're ruining Jules's big day," another groomsman laughed, stepping into my personal space. "I think she needs to cool off."

Someone grabbed a bottle of red wine from the decorative communion table near the entrance.

Before I could react, the dark liquid splashed across my face.

I gasped. The wine stung my eyes and soaked into my custom silk gown, staining the pristine white to the color of blood.

They didn't stop. Hands grabbed my arms. The delicate lace of my sleeves ripped with a sickening tear.

"Stop!" I cried out, struggling against their grip.

I looked back at the altar. Jules was watching. He didn't move a muscle.

"You brought this on yourself, Hannah," Jules called out coldly. "I told you not to make a scene."

Shivering, blinded by the stinging wine, I wrenched myself free. I stumbled back down the aisle toward the altar. I just wanted to look him in the eye. To ask him how he could stand there and watch them humiliate me.

"Jules" I reached out.

But Claudia stepped into my path.

"Oops," she whispered.

She planted her hands on my shoulders and shoved me hard.

My heel caught on the edge of the altar podium.

I hit the bottom floor with a bone-jarring crack. A blinding, tearing agony ripped through my abdomen. It was like a knife twisting in my stomach.

I curled into a ball, gasping for air.

Warm liquid pooled beneath me.

"Jules!" I screamed, the sound tearing my throat. "Call an ambulance!"

"Jules," I whimpered, reaching out a trembling, blood-stained hand. My fingers brushed the hem of his trousers. "Please. It hurts. Save our baby."

He opened his mouth to speak but Claudia was faster.

"Jules!" She clutched her chest, her face contorting into a mask of exaggerated agony. She stumbled forward, collapsing heavily against Juless arm.

"I can't breathe!" she gasped, taking loud, theatrical gulps of air. "Jules, my chest! The stress... the babies! I'm having a panic attack!"

The hesitation in Juless eyes vanished instantly. The flicker of humanity was gone, replaced by blind panic for the woman he thought held the Kensington billionaire fortune.

"Claudia, hold on!" he shouted, wrapping his arms around her waist to support her.

"It's too much, Jules," she sobbed, burying her face in his neck.

She peeked over his shoulder. Her eyes met mine. She wasn't crying. She was smiling. A cold, victorious smirk.

"I've got you," Jules promised her.

He scooped her up into his arms, holding her bridal-style. He turned toward the aisle.

"Jules, no," I choked out. The pain in my abdomen flared, a jagged, tearing sensation that made my vision white out. "You can't leave me. I'm bleeding."

He didn't even look down.

He lifted his foot. And he stepped directly over my bleeding body.

His shoe clipped my shoulder as he passed.

"Stop lying just to steal the spotlight, Hannah," Jules spat, his voice dripping with absolute disgust. "Its pathetic. You're pathetic."

He didn't look back.

He carried his mistress down the aisle. The groomsmen, who had just poured wine over my head, scrambled to follow him. They didn't look at me either. To them, I was just trash on the floor.

The heavy oak doors of the cathedral groaned open. The bright afternoon sunlight spilled in for a brief second, illuminating the crimson puddle spreading beneath me.

Then, the doors slammed shut.

The boom echoed through the empty church.

I was alone.

I pressed my hands against my stomach. It was so cold. The marble was freezing, but the cold inside me was worse. It was a hollow, dead chill spreading from my womb to my heart.

My baby.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sobbing until my throat burned. The tears mixed with the sticky, sweet-smelling red wine drying on my face.

I had planned to tell him tonight. I had bought a tiny pair of white shoes. I had wrapped them in a silver box. I had imagined his face lighting up. I had imagined a family.

Instead, my child was slipping away on the floor of the church where I was supposed to be married.

"Help," I whispered to the empty pews. "Somebody, please."

Nobody answered. The priest had fled out the back the moment the groomsmen started throwing wine. The guests had scattered like rats.

I tried to push myself up. My arms shook violently, slipping in the mixture of wine and blood. I collapsed back onto the marble, my cheek hitting the cold stone.

Every breath felt like swallowing glass. Every heartbeat pumped more of my life onto the floor.

I looked at the altar. At the beautiful white roses I had spent months picking out. At the stained-glass windows depicting saints and angels.

There were no angels here. Only demons.

Jules didn't just break my heart. He killed my future. He killed my child. Because of his greed. Because he wanted the Kensington fortune.

And Claudia. My sweet, fragile, adopted sister. She had orchestrated it all. She had worn my mother's necklace. She had worn my wedding dress. She had pushed me down the stairs.

She wanted to be me so badly, she was willing to murder me to take my place.

A strange, terrifying calm washed over me.

The hysterical sobbing stopped. The tears dried up.

The girl who had loved Jules Montgomery died on that marble floor. The girl who had protected Claudia Kensington bled out in that ruined white dress.

What was left behind was something else entirely. Something cold. Something sharp.

I will destroy them.

I forced my eyes open. A few feet away, my white clutch lay overturned. Inside the clutch, a faint light blinked.

My phone. I gritted my teeth. The pain was blinding, but I dragged my body forward. Inch by inch. My fingernails scraped against the marble. I left a thick, dark smear of blood behind me.

I reached out. My bloody fingers closed around the cold metal of the phone.

I pulled it to my face. The screen was cracked, but I could read the caller ID.

Paul. My grandfathers chief legal counsel.

My thumb smeared blood across the screen as I swiped to answer.

"Miss Kensington?" Pauls crisp voice came through the speaker. "The board is waiting for your decision. Are you ready to officially take over the Kensington Empire?"

"Paul," I rasped.

"Miss Kensington? Hannah? You sound unwell. Is everything alright?" His professional tone cracked, replaced by sharp concern.

"No," I whispered. "I'm at St. Judes Cathedral. I need an ambulance. Now. Tell them... tell them I'm hemorrhaging."

"Good God. I'm dispatching a private medical team immediately. Hold on, Hannah."

"Tomorrow morning," I gasped, fighting the darkness creeping into the edges of my vision. "Freeze every account. Every credit card. Every asset Claudia has access to. Cut her off from the estate entirely."

"Right away, Miss Kensington."

"And Paul?"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Prepare the press release. I am coming back."

The phone slipped from my bloody fingers.

"Hannah!"

The voice sliced through the haze in my mind. It was a voice I hadn't heard in months.

Brandon Cross.

Billionaire tycoon. My late grandfathers most ruthless protg. The man who had taken the reigns of the Kensington Empire's shadow operations while I played house in a tiny apartment.

Brandon had always been a fixture in my lifea silent, imposing guardian who had secretly loved me for years, yet respected my foolish desire to live a "normal" life with Jules.

I forced my heavy eyelids open just a fraction.

Brandon dropped to his knees beside me.

"Hannah, God, no," he choked out, his large, warm hands hovering over my ruined wedding dress, afraid to touch me, afraid to break me further.

"Brandon..." I breathed, the word nothing more than a bloody bubble on my lips. "My baby..."

"I've got you. I've got you, I swear to God," he vowed.

Paramedics rushed through the doors behind him, pushing a gurney. "Sir, step back! We need to board her"

"Get out of my way!" Brandon roared, a sound so feral the paramedics instantly froze.

He slid his arms under my shoulders and knees, lifting me from the freezing marble with effortless strength.

I groaned as the movement jostled my torn abdomen, and I buried my face into the crook of his neck.

"Forget the ambulance," Brandon barked at the medics as he carried me down the aisle. "Have my pilot spin up the chopper on the roof. We are going to Kensington Memorial. Now!"

That was the last thing I heard before the darkness finally pulled me under.

When I opened my eyes again, there was no cold marble. Only the sterile smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beep of a heart monitor, and the softest cotton sheets against my skin.

I was in the ultra-exclusive VIP wing of Kensington Memorial Hospital.

I turned my head slowly.

Sitting in a chair beside my bed was Brandon. He looked terrible. His tie was gone, his shirt was wrinkled, and a dark shadow of stubble covered his jaw.

He looked like he hadn't slept a single second since he carried me out of that church.

When he saw my eyes open, he exhaled a shaky breath and leaned forward, gently taking my hand in his.

"You're awake," he whispered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles.

Before I could speak, the heavy mahogany door opened, and a doctor in a pristine white coat walked in.

"Miss Kensington," the doctor said softly, approaching the bed. "It is a miracle you are alive. The blood loss was catastrophic."

"My child," I said.

The doctor lowered his eyes. "I am so incredibly sorry. The trauma from the fall... the placental abruption was too severe. We couldn't save the pregnancy. And... due to the extensive internal damage, it is highly unlikely you will ever be able to conceive again."

Silence descended on the room. It was heavier than the silence in the empty church.

Brandons grip on my hand tightened. I could feel the violent tremor in his fingers.

I looked at him and saw pure, unadulterated murder in his eyes.

I waited for the tears. I waited for the hysterical sobs that had torn through my throat on the altar. But they never came.

The last of my tears had been left in that puddle of blood. The naive, hopeful girl who just wanted a simple life and a loving husband had died on those marble steps. In her place, something else had taken root. Something forged in betrayal and baptized in my own blood.

My heart didn't just break. It turned completely to ice.

"Thank you, Doctor," I said, my voice as smooth and cold as glass. "Leave us."

The doctor nodded nervously and hurried out of the room.

A moment later, the door opened again. Paul, my grandfathers chief legal counsel, stepped inside. He carried a thick, black leather portfolio. He looked at Brandon, then at me, his expression grave.

"Hannah," Paul said gently. "I came as soon as Brandon called. I can come back another time"

"No," I interrupted, pushing myself up against the pillows. The pain in my abdomen flared, sharp and agonizing, but I welcomed it. It was a reminder. "Bring it here, Paul."

Paul hesitated, but Brandon gave him a sharp nod. The lawyer approached the bed and opened the portfolio, revealing a stack of dense legal documents.

"These are the succession papers," Paul explained. "Once you sign these, the trust is dissolved. You will have absolute, uncontested control over the Kensington Empire, its subsidiaries, and all its assets."

Brandon handed me a heavy, gold-plated pen. I took the pen.

I pressed the nib to the paper and signed my name. Hannah Kensington. I flipped the page. Signed it again. And again. With every stroke of the pen, I felt the power returning to my veins.

I closed the folder and handed it back to Paul.

"It's done, Madam CEO," Paul said, bowing his head slightly.

"Paul, I have two orders for you," I said, leaning back against the pillows, my eyes locked onto the city skyline outside the window.

"Anything."

"My apartment," I commanded. "Send a team there immediately. Clear it out. Every cheap dress, every piece of fake jewelry, every photograph of Jules. I want it all piled up and burned to ashes."

Paul blinked, taken aback by the venom in my voice. "Understood. And the second order?"

I turned my gaze back to him. The reflection of the city lights danced in my cold eyes.

"Call my stylists in Paris and Milan. Tell them to fly in immediately. I want the finest designer wardrobe money can buy waiting for me when I am discharged."

I looked at Brandon, a dark, dangerous promise passing between us.

"The poor charity case is dead," I whispered. "It's time they met the real Kensington heiress."

Claudia was lounging on the massive king-sized bed, wearing a plush hotel robe. She was admiring her fresh manicure, looking every bit the pampered billionaire heiress I knew she was.

"Tired, Mrs. Montgomery?" I smirked, walking over and kissing her neck.

"Exhausted," Claudia sighed dramatically, leaning into my touch. "Today was so stressful. Hannah really tried to ruin everything. But you were so brave, Jules. So strong."

I puffed out my chest. "I did what I had to do to protect you. To protect the Kensington name."

Claudia smiled, tracing my jawline with a perfectly manicured finger. "And you'll be rewarded for it, darling. First thing tomorrow, we are going to the dealership. Im buying you that red Ferrari youve been drooling over."

"You spoil me."

A sharp knock on the heavy oak door interrupted us.

"Room service," a muffled voice called out.

"Ah, the caviar is here," I said, rubbing my hands together.

I walked to the door and swung it open, ready to play the part of the wealthy husband.

A waiter stood there holding a silver tray. Standing right behind him was the hotels General Manager, flanked by two massive, stone-faced security guards.

I frowned. "Is there a problem?"

"Just a minor administrative issue, sir," the manager said smoothly. He stepped into the room without being invited, holding out a portable card reader. "We need to settle the incidental deposit for the suite. A standard hold of twenty thousand dollars."

"Of course," Claudia scoffed from the bed. She reached into her designer purse, pulled out a heavy, matte-black titanium credit card, and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. "Run it."

The manager picked up the card. He slid it through the machine.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The screen flashed red. DECLINED.

The manager raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, Miss Kensington. It seems the card has been declined."

Claudia rolled her eyes, sitting up. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a black card. There is no limit. Your machine is broken. Run it again."

The manager ran it again.

DECLINED.

"Try another one," I said, feeling a tiny prick of annoyance. "Bank error. You know how these things are."

Claudia dug into her purse, her fingers moving a little faster now. She pulled out a platinum Amex. Then a gold Visa.

The manager swiped them both.

DECLINED. DECLINED.

The smug smile finally slid off Claudias face. "That... that's impossible."

"Allow me," I said smoothly. I pulled out my own wallet and handed the manager my premium debit card. It was the account where I kept all my savingsover two hundred thousand dollars. "Put it on this."

The manager swiped my card.

DECLINED. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.

"What? No. Run it again. I have over two hundred thousand dollars in that account!"

"Apparently not, sir," the manager said.

"This is a mistake! Let me check!" I yanked my phone from my pocket, my hands shaking as I opened my mobile banking app. The screen loaded.

I stared at the numbers.

Available Balance: $0.00

"Zero?" I choked out. "Where is my money?! It's all gone!"

"I don't care about your banking issues," the manager interrupted, snapping his fingers. "What I care about is that you are attempting to defraud a five-star hotel."

"We aren't frauds!" Claudia shrieked, clutching her useless black card. "Do you know who I am?!"

"I know you can't pay your bill," the manager sneered.

The two massive security guards stepped forward.

"Hey! Get your hands off me!" I yelled as a guard grabbed my arm, nearly lifting me off the carpet.

"Take off the robes," the manager ordered. "They belong to the hotel. Put your clothes back on. You have exactly two minutes to vacate my penthouse before I call the police."

It was a blur of absolute, suffocating humiliation.

Stripped of the plush silk robes, I was forced back into my rumpled, sweat-stained wedding suit.

Claudia, sobbing hysterically, had to squeeze back into the torn wedding dress she had worn at the church.

The guards marched us out of the suite, shoved us into the elevator, and paraded us straight through the crowded, glittering lobby of the Grand Plaza.

Wealthy guests stopped and stared. I saw them pointing. I heard them whispering behind their hands as we were escorted out like common thieves.

The glass doors slid open.

The guards shoved us forward. I stumbled, my knees hitting the wet pavement hard.

It was pouring rain.

The doors locked behind us.

"What the hell is going on, Claudia?!" I roared over the sound of the thunder, my anger boiling over. "Why are your cards declining? Why is my account empty?!"

"II don't know!" Claudia sobbed, shivering violently in the rain, crossing her arms over her chest. "It has to be a bank error! I'll call Paul! I'll fix it, Jules, I swear!"

Before I could scream at her again, a pair of blinding headlights cut through the rain.

A sleek, armored black Maybach glided silently to the curb, stopping inches from my knees.

The tinted window rolled down.

A man in a sharp black suit stepped out, holding a large black umbrella. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a thick, gold-embossed black envelope.

He dropped it onto the wet pavement right at my feet.

"What is this?" I stammered, my hands trembling as I picked it up.

"An invitation," the man said. "To the inauguration gala of the new CEO of the Kensington Empire."

I stared at the gold crest on the envelope. My mind spun. "The new CEO?"

"If you want to know why your money is gone," the man said coldly, stepping back into the Maybach, "you are required to attend."

The Maybachs red taillights bled into the stormy night, disappearing completely.

I stood in the flooded gutter, the freezing rain soaking through my rumpled wedding suit.

I crushed the thick, gold-embossed envelope in my fist. The new CEO.

"Claudia!" I roared, spinning around to face her. "Call Paul! Call your family! Fix this right now!"

Claudia was shivering violently. She fumbled with her diamond-encrusted phone. Her fingers were shaking so badly she almost dropped it into the street.

"I'm trying!" she sobbed, pressing the phone to her ear. "Paul isn't answering!"

"Try someone else! Try your trust manager!"

She dialed again.

"Voicemail," she whimpered.

"Call your friends! Call Beatrice! Call anyone with a car!"

She swiped at her screen, her tears mixing with the torrential rain. She dialed number after number.

"Nothing," she choked out, her voice cracking. "They're all going straight to voicemail. Jules, they blocked me."

"Blocked you?" I grabbed her bare shoulders, shaking her. "You're a Kensington! You don't get blocked!"

"I don't know what's happening!" she screamed, pushing me away. "My grandfather must be auditing the estate! Or this new CEO is freezing assets during the transition! Its a mistake!"

I let her go in disgust. I pulled out my own phone. The screen was cracked from when the hotel guards shoved me, but it still lit up.

I opened my banking app. I needed to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see where my two hundred thousand dollars went.

The red zero mocked me.

Available Balance: $0.00.

"How?" I muttered. "How is this possible?"

I clicked on the transaction history.

My blood ran completely cold.

Transfer to: H. KENSINGTON.

Hannah.

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the account details.

Joint Savings: Jules Montgomery & Hannah Kensington.

"She took it," I whispered, the phone slipping from my numb fingers.

"What?" Claudia sniffled.

"Hannah. She took my money. All of it."

"Hannah?" Claudia scoffed, wiping her running mascara. "How? She's broke!"

"It was a joint account!" I yelled, the realization burning through my veins. "She emptied it! That vindictive, petty bitch emptied my life savings because I left her at the altar!"

"Call a black car," Claudia demanded, crossing her arms against the cold.

"With what money, Claudia?!" I snapped. "Hannah took my cash. Your cards are declined. We don't have a dime!"

"So what do we do?" she cried.

I looked down the dark, rain-swept street. The neon sign of the subway station flickered two blocks away.

"We walk."

"To the subway?" Claudia gasped, horrified. "I am not taking the subway! Look at me!"

She gestured to her ruined, soaking wet designer gown.

"Then sleep in the gutter!" I yelled, turning my back on her.

I started walking. I didn't look back to see if she followed. I heard her wet heels clicking frantically against the pavement a few seconds later.

The subway station smelled like urine and damp concrete. We swiped through the turnstiles using the last few dollars loaded on my old transit card.

We stood on the platform.

A homeless man sleeping on a bench cracked an eye open, muttered something, and turned away.

The train screeched into the station. The doors slid open.

We stepped inside. The fluorescent lights were blinding. The car was half-full of late-night commuters. Drunks. Shift workers. Teenagers.

Every single head turned to look at us.

I grabbed a metal pole, staring at the floor. The water dripped from my ruined wedding suit, forming a dirty puddle at my feet.

"Oh my god," a teenage girl whispered loudly.

A flash went off. Someone was taking a picture.

"Stop it!" Claudia shrieked, hiding her face against my chest.

"Just ignore them," I gritted out, my jaw clenched so tight my teeth ached.

It was the longest train ride of my life.

We finally got off at my stop. We walked three blocks in the pouring rain to my apartment building. The cheap, cramped brick building I thought I had left behind forever. I had packed my bags this morning, ready to move into the Kensington estate.

Now, I was back.

I fumbled with my keys. I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The apartment was dark. It smelled like stale takeout and cheap cologne. It was a shoebox.

Claudia stood in the doorway, looking around in absolute disgust.

"I can't stay here," she whispered.

"You don't have a choice," I said, stripping off my wet jacket and throwing it on the floor.

I walked into the bedroom and collapsed face-first onto the lumpy mattress.

I didn't even take off my shoes. I just closed my eyes and prayed to wake up from this nightmare.

The vibration rattled against my skull.

I groaned, opening my eyes. Gray morning light filtered through the cheap plastic blinds. My suit was stiff and smelled like damp wool.

My phone was vibrating violently on the nightstand.

I reached over, my muscles screaming in protest.

I grabbed the phone.

The screen was flooded. Dozens of missed calls. Hundreds of text messages. Notifications from Twitter, Instagram, Facebook.

Mark: Bro, what the hell is this?!

Dave: Dude, are you seeing this?

Mom: Jules, call me right now!

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I clicked on a link Mark had sent me.

It opened a browser window. A tabloid website.

The video started playing automatically.

It was high definition. Shot from the lobby of the Grand Plaza.

It showed the hotel manager stripping me of the silk robe. It showed the security guards grabbing my arms.

It showed Claudia sobbing hysterically in her torn wedding dress as we were paraded through the glittering lobby.

It showed us being shoved out the glass doors into the rain.

I stared at the screen, unable to breathe.

Millions of views. The counter was ticking up by the second.

I looked at the headline plastered in bold, red letters across the top of the page.

FAKE HEIRESS AND GROOM TOSSED LIKE TRASH.

The phone slipped from my hand.