Moments before my son’s wedding, I saw my husband kissing his bride. I rushed to confront them, but my son stopped me and revealed evidence of a deeper, darker betrayal.

“Simone,” Aisha said gently, “this isn’t just betrayal. This is fraud, theft, and deceit on a scale that destroys people.”

Elijah leaned forward. “Mom, this is why we’re exposing them now. At the wedding. In front of everyone who believes Dad is a good man. He doesn’t deserve privacy. He deserves the truth.”

Aisha handed me a small remote. “I connected my laptop to the wedding projector. When you press this button, every photo, every screenshot, every document, every hotel timestamp will appear on the screen.”

My hand shook as I held it.

Aisha added, “The police already know about Madison’s corruption. If we give them the files after the ceremony, they’ll come for her right now.”

I swallowed hard. “And Franklin?”

“Elijah’s lawyer is ready to file fraud charges the moment you file for divorce,” Aisha said. “You win. Every asset tied to the stolen funds becomes yours.”

For the first time that morning, I felt empowered—not angry, not sad—power.

I stood up.

“Elijah,” I said, “let’s get this over with.”

He nodded firmly.

After a few hours, our backyard was filled with guests. The string quartet played. The arch I had decorated gleamed under the soft light.

It should have been beautiful.

Instead, it was the stage for the destruction of a family.

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