Sinclair was

Chapter 7 The Ruins Begin

The room didn’t breathe.

For that moment, the silence was so sharp it almost felt like the crash all over again- everything suspended in the second before impact.

Then the whispers started.

“They said she was-”

“-can’t be her-”

“Oh my God, it is-’’

Glasses clicked against the tables as guests shifted in their seats, leaning forward to get a better look. Someone’s phone lit up, a shaky hand trying to snap a picture. Cameras from the press section clicked like distant gunfire.

I didn’t move.

I let them look.

Let them search my face for the girl they thought they had buried. They wouldn’t find her. She’d died in that wreck. What stood here now wasn’t the grieving heiress or the perfect daughter - they were looking at the ashes of what used to be her.

Sophie’s hand was still frozen midair, the stem of her champagne glass shattered between her fingers. A thin ribbon of blood slid down her palm, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were wide, lips parted , like she’d just a ghost.

Dominic’s expression was worse. His jaw was tight, shoulders locked, as if he was physically holding himself together. His gaze dragged over me slowly-head to toe- as if trying to decide whether this was a trick.

My father didn’t blink. His face was a calm, measured mask I’d seen at my so-called funeral. I knew that look. It was the one he wore when he was calculating.

Ethan’s hand brushed mine-not holding, not calming, just anchoring me, and then his voice rolled over the crowd again, low and smooth.

“I think you all know my fiancèe, " he said as if announcing the weather. “Or… you thought you did.”

A ripple of uneasy laughter spread through the room.

I scanned the crowd, meeting eyes when I could, then I met her eyes, my best friend looked shocked and confused. I could see the tears in her eyes for a moment and felt my heart ache for her but then I remembered why I was here and put my act together . I left her gaze and continued to scan the people in the crowd and some looked away, guilty for believing the headlines. Others stared like they couldn’t turn away from a car wreck- ironic.

No one dared to speak to me. Not yet.

Ethan took a step forward, his presence filling the space between me and the room. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, there’s a great deal to catch up on. I’m sure you all have questions- but for now let's let the bride enjoy her… special day.”

I caught a glimpse of Sophie flinch. She had the blade under his words.

We turned to leave. The path through the crowd was narrow, and I could feel their eyes burning into my back. But halfway to the door, a voice called my name.

“Ava.”

I stopped.

It was Sophie.

She’d stepped away from Dominic, blood still dripping from her palm, her face pale but determined.

“You’re alive,”she said, almost accusing.

I tilted my head, letting a slow, cold smile touch my lips. “So it seems.”

Her throat bobbed. “Why didn’t you-”

“I’m sure we’ll talk soon,” I cut in. “You have a wedding to finish.”

The moment the doors shut behind us, the noise of the reception dulled into a muffled hum. My lungs expanded for the first time in hours.

Ethan glanced at me. “You did well.”

“I didn’t do anything,”I said.

He smirked. “Exactly.”

We slid into the back of the waiting car. I watched the lights of the venue fade as we pulled away, my reflection faint in the tinted window.

This was the first move. The first crack in their perfect picture.

And I wasn’t done.

Not even close.