CHAPTER 3: WHEN THE GROOM EXPOSED HIMSELF
After Noah said, “But what’s in your pocket can’t,” the entire wedding hall fell into a deadly silence.
Ethan still kept his hand over his pocket.
That action betrayed him.
If there had only been a handkerchief, a wedding card, or his vows inside, he would not have panicked like that.
Clara looked straight at Ethan.
“Move your hand.”
Ethan forced a smile.
“Clara, you’re upset. This is just a small accident.”
“A small accident that makes you cover your pocket?”
Ethan’s mother, Margaret, immediately stepped forward.
“Clara, dear, don’t let a waiter ruin your big day.”
Clara turned to her.
“I’m not speaking to you.”
The wedding hall drew in a collective breath.
Clara Whitmore, always gentle, polite, and careful with her image, had never spoken to anyone in such a cold voice before.
Ethan lowered his voice.
“You’re worrying everyone.”
Clara looked at him for a long time.
Lately, Ethan had always used sentences like that.
You’re stressed.
You’re overthinking.
You need to rest.
Don’t let your emotions control you.
Each sentence sounded caring, but in truth, they were like invisible threads tying her down.
Clara held out her hand.
“Show me what’s in your pocket.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Too honestly.
Whispers began spreading through the rows of guests.
“What’s in there?”
“Why is he so scared?”
“Is it some kind of document?”
Margaret turned to the security guards.
“Get this waiter out of here right now!”
Two guards stepped forward.
But Clara immediately said:
“If anyone touches him, I will cancel the entire wedding contract with this hotel immediately.”
No one moved another step.
At that moment, Clara was no longer the weak bride Ethan wanted to control.
She was the Whitmore heiress.
She was the person paying for the entire wedding.
She was the one who had the power to decide what could continue in that room.
Ethan looked around, trying to find an ally.
But every eye in the hall was fixed on his pocket.
Finally, under the pressure of the entire room, Ethan pulled out the envelope.
The cream-colored envelope had been stained red at one corner by the wine.
Clara snatched it from his hand.
“Clara, don’t open it here,” Ethan said quickly.
She looked at him.
“So there is something inside that shouldn’t be opened.”
Ethan went silent.
Clara tore open the envelope.
Inside was a neatly folded stack of papers and a small black USB drive.
She opened the first page.
The words appeared before her eyes:
REQUEST FOR TEMPORARY EVALUATION OF MANAGEMENT CAPACITY
SUBJECT: CLARA WHITMORE
Below it were sentences as cold as knives.
Signs of emotional instability after family trauma.
Not capable of independently managing assets.
Recommendation that legal spouse temporarily hold representative authority.
Legal spouse.
That meant Ethan.
After the wedding.
Clara turned to the next page.
It was a power of attorney form that had already been prepared.
Her name was listed as the person signing.
Ethan’s name was listed as the person receiving authority.
Expected signing date: the day after the wedding.
Clara felt her throat tighten.
He was not marrying her for love.
He was marrying her to gain access to her assets, her charity foundation, and the entire legacy her father had spent his life building.
Noah stepped forward.
“That USB can explain the rest.”
Ethan immediately lunged forward to grab it, but this time, security stopped him.
Clara turned to the hotel manager.
“Put it on the big screen.”
The manager went pale.
“Miss…”
“I said put it on.”
No one dared to argue.
A few seconds later, the large screen behind the stage lit up. An audio file appeared.
Clara pressed play.
Ethan’s voice rang through the wedding hall.
“After the wedding, she’ll sign. If she doesn’t, we use the psychological evaluation. She just went through the shock with her father. No one will question it.”
Then came Margaret’s voice.
“You must make sure the Whitmore Foundation transfers authority before Richard fully wakes up.”
Then a lawyer’s voice followed.
“If Miss Whitmore is proven unfit to manage, her legal husband can request temporary representative authority.”
Ethan laughed in the recording.
“Marry first. Lock the authority after. Simple.”
No one in the hall said a word.
But this silence was no longer confusion.
It was judgment.
Clara stood beneath the wedding lights, still wearing her white dress, holding proof of the betrayal from the man she had almost called her husband.
Ethan looked at her, his voice trembling.
“Clara, let me explain…”
She looked at the red wine stain on his suit.
“You asked how much that suit costs.”
Ethan said nothing.
May you like
Clara continued:
“It is still cheaper than the price you’ll pay tonight.”
