“You did it all, babe. From the contracts to the paperwork.”
The room froze. Forks stopped mid-air, glasses hovered. And Catherine leaned forward, squinting at the screen as her hand went to her chest.
“What is this?!” Jake demanded.
“This,” I said calmly. “Is the wedding you planned. Just with your mistress, not me.”
Gasps rippled through the room. Maya stepped forward and placed a small stack of printed screenshots in the center of the table.
“… just with your mistress, not me.”
“In case anyone needs context,” she said.
Catherine flipped through the pages, her face blanching with every swipe.
“Jake,” she said in a cracked voice. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
“We didn’t know how to tell Tamara,” he said quickly, eyes darting. “Things changed. It got complicated. We —”
