Juliet knelt beside me carefully, gathering the edge of my ruined dress so it would not drag beneath the wheels.
“I hate that this happened here,” she whispered.
I took her hand.
“Your wedding exposed a lie. That is not the same as ruining it.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I should have known what kind of man he was.”
“Men like him survive because rooms like this reward confidence before character.”
She nodded slowly, then stood and faced the guests with a steadiness I admired.
“This reception will continue,” she said into the microphone, her voice shaking only once. “But not as a monument to people like Blaine Mercer. It will continue because the truth deserves better company than cowardice.”
No one applauded immediately. They were too stunned. Then one person near the back began, then another, and soon the sound filled the hall in a way that no planned toast ever could.
