Savannah slipped the engagement ring from her finger and held it up for everyone to see.
“You wanted my money to clean up your mess and fund your lies,” she said. “You never saw a woman. You saw access.”
Then she let the ring fall.
It struck the marble floor with a sharp metallic sound that echoed through the chapel like judgment.
“You get nothing from me.”
Trent looked wildly around the room, but there was nowhere left to hide. Every face that had once admired him was now twisted with disgust. His lies stood around him in human form.
And then came the final collapse.
Police officers appeared quietly near the chapel doors. Savannah’s uncle, alarmed by what Daniel had told him earlier that morning, had made a call. Trent’s creditors had been looking for him too. By the end of that brutal afternoon, he lost everything he had come to steal—his reputation, his freedom, the image he had spent years polishing, and both women he believed he could manipulate.
But that was not the image people remembered most.
What they remembered was what came after.
Savannah did not walk out of that chapel alone.
Neither did Rachel.