Ce soir-là, de retour dans notre suite d’hôtel, ma robe de mariée drapée sur une chaise, j’ai fait défiler les gros titres :
« Mariée impliquée dans l’effondrement de la belle-mère lors d’un mariage de luxe. »
“Poisoned champagne scandal rocks the Ashford family.”
Photos flooded the internet Caroline crumpling to the floor, champagne spilling, and me standing behind her, smiling. No one truly knew who the victim was.
Three days later, I visited her at the hospital – VIP suite, ninth floor. She looked weak but alive.
“Feeling better, Mrs. Ashford?” I asked.
She gazed at me with hatred.
“I know what you tried to do,” I said evenly. “You wanted me humiliated, the media to destroy me, and Dylan to think I poisoned you.”
She gave a bitter smile. “You think you’ve won? You’ll never belong in this family, Lori. You’re nothing but a gold digger.”
I leaned closer, voice like ice. “No, Caroline. The one about to lose everything is you.”
I played the recording from my phone and her voice from that morning:
“I’ve already given him the drug. Once he drinks it, it’ll all be over.”
Her face turned ghostly white.
“That recording and your text,” I continued, “are already with Revista Central. You have 24 hours to resign from the Ashford board. Otherwise, tomorrow the world will know who tried to poison the bride.”
She said nothing. I stood, smoothed my dress, and smiled. “I didn’t come for revenge, Caroline. I came to war:n you. You fired first and now it’s my turn.”
Three months later, I was sitting in my new office on the 32nd floor of Ashford Holdings. Caroline had “resigned for health reasons.” Dylan remained loyal, convinced his mother’s collapse had been because of stress.
In the window’s reflection, I no longer saw an innocent bride, but a woman who understood that love and power often share the same face. At the bottom of my champagne glass, I kept a single white pill – a reminder that every marriage begins with a vow, but not all survive it.
It seemed over. Caroline vanished from the media. I became the celebrated new Mrs. Ashford, the family’s savior.
But I should’ve known that Caroline never stays buried.
One winter morning, a black envelope appeared on my desk. Inside, a handwritten note read:
“Everything you think you know is only half the story.”
Along with it and a photo of me, in my wedding dress, switching the glasses. And beneath it:
“If I fall, you fall with me.”
My heart stopped. Caroline was alive and she was back.
That night, an anonymous email arrived:
“Meet me tomorrow at 9 p.m. at the old Ashford mansion.”
Attached was a video – Caroline in a hospital bed, speaking to a man with his face hidden.
“He thinks he’s won,” she said, “but I still have an ace up my sleeve… and it carries the Ashford name.”
I zoomed in—the man wore the same wedding ring as Dylan.
I couldn’t believe it.
The next night, I went. The mansion was dim, haunted by silence. Caroline stood in the living room, elegant and calm, like a ghost who’d never left.
“You came quickly, Lori,” she said.
“What do you want?” I asked.
« Justice », a-t-elle répondu. « Vous m’avez ruiné dans la presse. Je veux juste rendre la pareille.
Elle a glissé un dossier sur la table – de faux documents financiers avec ma signature, des rapports de fra :ud.
« Je les ai achetés. Un seul appel et vous serez accusé de détournement de fonds. À moins, dit-elle d’une pause, que tu ne quittes Dylan ce soir.
Je suis sorti sous la pluie, tremblant. Si elle les libérait, je perdrais tout. Mais elle ne savait pas que j’avais enregistré toute notre conversation.
Ce soir-là, j’ai envoyé l’audio au journaliste. Ligne d’objet : La fin du toast.
Le lendemain matin, les gros titres ont de nouveau fait surface :
« Caroline Ashford accusée de chantage et de fraude d’entreprise. »
« L’empire d’Ashford au bord de l’effondrement. »
Caroline a été arrêtée. Dylan a pleuré.
Et une fois de plus, j’étais l’épouse innocente aux yeux de tous.
Quand il est rentré à la maison ce soir-là, la voix tremblante, il a demandé : « Lori… Tu étais au courant ?
Je lui ai caressé la joue et lui ai murmuré : « Nous payons tous pour nos actions, Dylan. »
Il m’a serré fort dans ses bras. J’ai souri derrière son épaule.
La guerre était enfin terminée.
Et c’est moi qui ai gagné.
