By 1:10 that afternoon, I had already driven to the estate, and the bright California sun felt almost insulting as my life split open in silence.
From the entrance, I saw white chairs, ivory flowers, champagne glasses, and a string trio playing so softly it sounded like a lie trying not to be heard.
I walked in openly without hiding, wearing a dark blue dress and oversized sunglasses, carrying the kind of composure only a woman with nothing left to lose can hold.
Isabella stood near the altar in white, smiling with practiced softness, while Leonard adjusted his cuffs beside her like a man who believed he owed nothing to anyone.
My phone buzzed again, and his message read, “The keynote ends at seven, then dinner with the firm afterward.”
I looked up, and in that exact second Leonard saw me, and his expression froze as if his mind was scrambling for the right lie.
Isabella turned and saw me too, and she stepped back in visible shock while even the violinist lowered his bow.
I smiled calmly and reached into my bag, because I had not come to scream or cry or ask questions.