The grand ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of silk, diamonds, and high-society whispers. Jonathan stood at the altar in a tailored tuxedo, smugly adjusting his cufflinks. Vanessa, draped in a designer gown, smiled radiantly beside him. The senator was mingling with billionaires, and Jonathan felt like the king of the world. He kept glancing toward the back of the room, eagerly awaiting the arrival of a broken, poorly dressed woman so he could finally savor his ultimate triumph.
Suddenly, a murmur rippled through the crowd.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, a sleek, custom-built Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled up to the red carpet. A chauffeur in crisp white gloves hurried to open the door.
Jonathan’s smirk faltered.
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