Page 33 of Vows of Deceit
He turned to leave.
“Damien,” she snapped. “If you walk out now—”
He paused. “You’ll do what? Expose yourself in front of the press tomorrow? Crash a party full of cameras and CEOs?”
Her jaw tightened.
“You won’t ruin her day,” he said. “You won’t ruin her legacy.”
But she would try.
As soon as the door slammed behind him, Kelly grabbed her phone and called her PR fixer.
“I want access to the audio feed,” she hissed. “The mic system at the venue. I want to interrupt her speech.”
“Miss King, that’s highly irregular—”
“Then make it regular. Or I find someone else.”
She paced the suite like a woman unraveling.
“She’s not going to win. She’s not going to parade him around like some reformed king while I stand in shadows.”
Her fixer hesitated. “You realize this will be public?”
“I hope it is,” Kelly growled. “I want every single guest to see the truth. About her. About him. About me.”
She ended the call, hands shaking. This wasn’t about love anymore.
It was war.
Back at the King estate, Cassie rehearsed her speech in front of a mirror. The dress hung behind her, ivory silk embroidered with gold threading. A vision of regality but her eyes were focused.
Unforgiving.
Harper stood nearby, reading the final checklist. “Security confirmed. Leo will run tech. Jared’s handling press. Delia has the footage queued and encrypted.”
Cassie nodded. “Then tomorrow… we burn the lies.”
Chapter Twenty Five
The Reveal
The ballroom shimmered with opulence. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead. Gold-dusted roses adorned every table. Music drifted through the air, soft and romantic. The who’s who of New York’s elite stood dressed in designer tuxedos and gowns, sipping champagne and murmuring admiration over the perfection of it all.
Cassie stood beneath the floral archway, stunning in a white-gold couture gown, her expression serene but unreadable. Beside her, Damien wore a bespoke black tux, his posture sharp but his eyes searching hers.
Grayson stood near the back of the room, his jaw tight, watching everything with wary calculation.
Elaine Sterling was seated near the front, wearing smug elegance like a second skin. Charles King wore detachment. Kelly wasn’t yet visible though her presence simmered beneath the surface.
The officiant stepped forward.
“We are gathered today,” he began, “not to start something new, but to honor a bond that has weathered time and tide—”
Cassie raised a hand. The room froze.
“Before we continue,” she said, her voice cutting through the air like silk over steel, “I’d like to share something.”
