Chapter 4 - The Bloodbath at the Altar
The romantic ambient lighting on the screens vanished, replaced instantly by the massive, high-definition image of Tristan’s secret Instagram account.
The very first photo was the one of Tessa asleep in his Range Rover. The caption was magnified so every single billionaire in the crowd could read it: I can't marry her. But to make up for it, I'll give you all my devotion.
A collective, horrified gasp ripped through the crowd of three hundred people. The string quartet stopped playing with a horrific screech of a bow against a cello.
Tristan’s face drained of all color. He lunged forward. "Zoe! What the hell is this? Turn it off! Turn it off right now!"
I stepped back, pressing the button again. The screen flashed to a collage of their late-night texts.
Tessa: She’s going to be so mad when she realizes you have the voting majority.
Tristan: Let her be mad. Once the ring is on her finger, she’s legally bound. The company is ours, baby.
"It turns out," I said into my microphone, my voice cutting through the rising chaos of the crowd, "that my fiancé has been running a secondary project behind my back. A project titled Tessa Jenkins."
All eyes snapped to the third row. Tessa let out a terrified shriek and covered her face with her hands as the tech journalists in the aisles immediately swung their massive camera lenses toward her, the shutters clicking like machine-gun fire.
"Zoe, stop!" Tristan begged, his voice cracking, the polished CEO façade shattering into a million pathetic pieces. "Please, we can talk about this! Don't do this in front of the board!"
"Oh, the board already knows, Tristan," I said coldly, gesturing to the front row.
The five members of the Apex board of directors stood up simultaneously. Julian Cross stood beside them, his arms crossed over his chest, a lethal, satisfied smile on his face.
"As of 8:00 AM this morning," I announced, pacing the altar like a predator circling its prey, "the board of directors voted unanimously to terminate Tristan Davis as CEO of Apex Biotech, citing gross misconduct, embezzlement of company funds, and breach of fiduciary duty."
Tristan staggered backward as if he had been physically struck. "You can't do that! I own fifty percent of the voting shares!"
"You did," I corrected, pressing the button one last time. The screen displayed the signed, notarized legal transfer documents. "But you see, Tristan, you never read the contracts you sign. The morality clause in our Series C funding dictated that any executive found utilizing company funds for illicit activities forfeits their unvested equity. You expensed your sleazy hotel rooms to the corporate account. Your shares have been liquidated and returned to the founder. Me."
"No... no, no, no," Tristan hyperventilated, pulling at his bowtie as if it were choking him. "The patents! The algorithms!"
"Registered to my private LLC before we even launched," I smiled, a chilling, triumphant expression. "You own nothing, Tristan. You are nothing. You’re just a handsome face who couldn't keep his pants zipped. And by the way, the locks on my Nob Hill penthouse were changed an hour ago. Your clothes are currently sitting in garbage bags on the sidewalk."
I slipped the massive diamond engagement ring off my finger and tossed it onto the grass at his feet.
"The wedding is canceled," I announced to the stunned, breathless crowd. "But the open bar is fully paid for. Please, enjoy the champagne. And Julian? I believe we have a merger to sign."
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I turned my back on the man who had tried to destroy me and walked back down the aisle, the heavy silk of my dress dragging over the grass. Tristan fell to his knees at the altar, burying his face in his hands, completely and utterly ruined. Tessa was already sprinting toward the parking lot, abandoning him the second she realized the money was gone.
As I reached the end of the aisle, Julian was waiting for me. He held out his arm, his dark eyes shining with absolute adoration. I looped my arm through his, and together, we walked away from the wreckage, leaving the Silicon Valley elite to feast on the remains.
