A heavy silence fell over the garden. Everyone's eyes were on Lynn, standing tall in her black dress like a shadow from the past come to ruin the fairy tale.
Thabiso swallowed hard.
Naledi clutched her bouquet like it was a weapon.
> "Before you say 'I do,'" Lynn said smoothly, "you might want to ask your bride where she was… the night your offshore accounts were hacked."
Gasps.
The crowd shifted. Whispers exploded like wildfire.
> "What is she talking about?"
"Did she just say hacked?"
"Is she exposing them?"
Naledi's face crumbled into panic, but she quickly forced a smile. "She's just bitter. Ignore her, babe."
Lynn tilted her head. "Am I bitter? Maybe. But not stupid. And unlike you, Naledi, I have proof."
She pulled out a flash drive and dropped it into the best man's hand.
> "Give that to your IT guy. Or your lawyer. Or the press. I don't care. But just know this…"
She turned to Thabiso, her voice low and cutting:
"If you marry her, you're marrying a liar. And a thief."
The priest looked frozen. Thabiso looked sick.
And Naledi?
She cracked.
> "You think anyone's going to believe you?" she snapped. "You're the ex. You're obsessed!"
Lynn laughed. Loud and unbothered.
> "Obsession is crying in my car at 2am. This? This is power, darling."
And with that, she turned and walked off — hips swaying, back straight, heart cold.
But as she reached the edge of the garden, Lwandile appeared from the side, gripping someone by the arm — a man in a gray hoodie with a hidden camera.
> "Caught your little spy," Lwandile said, voice low.
Lynn didn't blink. "Talk."
The man stuttered, "I-I was paid to film everything. Said to catch the moment Lynn snaps."
> "Who paid you?" Lwandile asked sharply.
The man hesitated, then said a name that made Lynn go still.
"It wasn't Thabiso. It was… your father."
---