The blood in my veins turned to liquid nitrogen the moment his eyes locked onto mine. Reza’s face, usually so calm and calculated, went stark white like a ghost. He looked like he’d seen a specter rise from the grave, and in a way, I suppose he had. Six weeks ago, he left me in that godforsaken blizzard to perish, believing his dark secret was buried under layers of permafrost. But here I was, standing in the middle of his gilded paradise, carrying the very evidence of his sins. The room went dead silent, the orchestra conductor’s baton frozen in mid-air, and the sheer audacity of my presence seemed to suck the oxygen right out of the ballroom. I didn’t care about the gasps or the cameras flashing from the corner; I only had eyes for the man who tried to end my lineage for a portfolio of stocks.
Reza stumbled backward, his hand fumbling against the altar as if looking for a weapon, but he found nothing but empty air. I walked with the steady pace of an executioner, each click of my heels against the marble echoing like a countdown. Beside him, the altar boy dropped the rings in shock, the metal clinking loudly on the floor. I felt Banyu stir against my chest, a soft sigh from the child who survived the impossible, and that tiny sound gave me all the strength I needed. I reached the edge of the stage, my head held high, my gaze cutting through the room like a blade. Reza tried to speak, his lips trembling, but no sound came out. He looked smaller, somehow, stripped of his bravado and his stolen power.
You look surprised to see me, Reza, I said, my voice cutting through the silence, crisp and devoid of the fear I once held for him. The microphone from the bandstand was still live, and my words boomed through the speakers, reaching every corner of the room. He scrambled to compose himself, his eyes darting to the guests, then to the heavy security guards moving toward me. Don’t even think about it, I snapped, looking at the guards. They hesitated, sensing the shift in the room’s atmosphere. I pulled a thick manila folder from my clutch—the truth, documented in black and white, verified by the authorities who had spent the last six weeks helping me dismantle his empire.
Everyone here thinks you are a self-made man, a visionary, I continued, walking slowly in a circle around him. But you are nothing more than a thief who builds his future on graves. You declared me dead to steal my company, you forged signatures, and you abandoned a three-week-old baby to a sub-zero death. I turned to look at the side doors, where I saw Olivia standing in her gown, her face a mask of confusion and mounting horror. Olivia, I called out, my voice softening just enough to be heard. Do not marry this man. He does not love you. He loves the power he thinks he can buy with the fortune he stole from my family.
Reza finally found his voice, a desperate, pathetic screech. She’s crazy! This woman is a stalker, she’s unwell, get her out of here! He lunged toward me, but he wasn’t fast enough. A team of plainclothes officers, who had been hiding in plain sight among the guests, surged forward and pinned him to the floor before he could touch me. The commotion was absolute chaos. Guests were shouting, the bride was sobbing, and the dream wedding Reza had spent millions on was turning into his personal hell. I looked down at him, pinned against the polished marble, his expensive white suit stained by the floor and the shame of his exposure.
I leaned in close, so only he could hear the final piece of the puzzle. You thought I was weak, Reza. You thought that because I was a mother, I would be easy to discard. But you forgot that a mother will burn the whole world down to keep her child safe. The authorities have already frozen every single asset you moved. Your properties, your offshore accounts, the shares—it all belongs to Banyu now, held in a trust you can never touch again. Your name is going to be synonymous with fraud, not fortune. You will spend the rest of your life wondering where it all went wrong, staring at the walls of a cell, remembering the sound of that door locking in the storm.
As the officers dragged him out, he looked at me one last time, not with rage, but with a hollow, wide-eyed recognition of his own ruin. I didn’t feel triumph; I felt a cold, clean closure. I walked toward the exit, my head held high, the heavy doors of the ballroom swinging open to the cool night air. The city lights of Singapore twinkled in the distance, beautiful and indifferent to the wreckage left behind. I realized then that the bitter cold of that mountain villa hadn’t killed me—it had hardened me into something unbreakable. I stepped into a waiting car, the engine purring to life, and for the first time in six weeks, I breathed in the air of a future that finally belonged only to us. I looked down at Banyu, who was now wide awake, his tiny fingers clutching my collar. We didn’t need the fortune or the name; we had our lives, we had our freedom, and we had the justice that was rightfully ours. The past was buried in the snow, and I was finally walking toward the dawn.