Elara’s Outburst

Elara and Lucian broke their kiss when the sudden, violent sound of shattering glass split the stunned silence of the chapel.

The sound wasn't just loud - it was furious, deliberate, and filled with rage.

They both turned instinctively, their lips still tingling, breath shaky, to see Marjorie standing near the wine table like a woman possessed, grabbing bottles one after another and smashing them against the edge until the pale floor was littered with scarlet wine.

Her chest heaved, her eyes wild, her face blotched red with fury and humiliation.

She pointed a trembling but accusatory finger straight at Elara, her voice cutting through the shocked whispers of the crowd.

"You-how dare you? How can you be this ungrateful? How can you disgrace our family like this, in this kind of way, in front of everyone? After everything we did for you? You bitch!"

The word ungrateful echoed again and again in the room, attaching itself like a label Marjorie had always wanted the world to see.

Elara did not flinch this time. She didn't hunch, didn't lower her head, didn't whisper an apology the way she used to in her past life, when fear wrapped around her throat like invisible hands choking her into obedience.

Instead, she lifted her chin and stared right back at Marjorie, her voice firm and cold, yet shaking slightly with the sheer force of emotion she had held back for years.

"Ungrateful? Well... I'm done," she said, every syllable clear. "I'm done being your pawn. I'm done being your doormat. I'm done being your punching bag."

Gasps swept through the crowd like a wave.

She continued, her words pouring now, unstoppable, raw, furious, trembling yet powerful.

"I don't want to have anything to do with you or your family anymore," she said. "Yes, I am grateful you adopted me, yes, I am grateful you gave me a roof and called it a home, yes, I am grateful I had somewhere to sleep... But did you ever, for one single second, treat me as your daughter after Evelyn returned?"

Silence fell heavier than anything that had been spoken so far. Even the pastor seemed to forget to breathe.

Marjorie opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Elara didn't wait for her cook to come up with some shifty lies again.

"No," she answered herself, voice rising. "You didn't. From the very moment your precious biological daughter walked back into your arms, I stopped being a child in your house and became nothing more than the enemy of your biological daughter, the unwanted shadow that existed so she could shine brighter."

Her eyes flickered to Evelyn.

"Evelyn does so many awful, evil things, pretends, hurts me," she said, her voice laced with bitter laughter, "yet she always gets away with them - because she cries, or lies, or hides behind your skirts, and I'm the one who takes the blame for everything. Every broken thing. Every mistake. Every mess. I pay for all of it! Why? Huh? WHY??!!"

Evelyn stood frozen, lips parted, her fake sweetness stripped away in public daylight.

Elara continued, her hands tightening on her bouquet until the stems dug into her palm.

"Despite having countless maids in that mansion," she said slowly, "I was the one forced to scrub the floors, wash the clothes, cook, clean - everything. I am also from the same family as her, from a background you brought me into, yet I was the one working four part-time jobs just to support my education because you refused to pay for it, because you wanted me exhausted, silent, too tired to fight back, and yet you stand there and call me ungrateful?"

She tilted her head slightly, a humorless smile creeping over her lips.

"Tell me," she asked, her voice cracking just a little, "what exactly do you think I should be grateful for?"

The entire chapel held its breath.

People shifted uncomfortably. Some looked away. Others stared openly, fascinated, guilty, horrified.

Emotions... fierce, messy, painfully honest, poured from Elara like a dam that finally burst.

This wasn't just a runaway bride scene anymore. This was a reckoning years in the making.

Aaron suddenly surged forward, face contorted with fury, unable to take another word.

His steps were heavy, veins bulging in his neck as he stormed toward her, raising his hand high as he shouted:

"You bitch! How dare you talk like that? How dare you?"

He didn't get to finish his threat.

Before he could even touch Elara, the atmosphere in the chapel shifted drastically.

Doors swung open and several footsteps thundered. In a matter of seconds, tall men in black suits flooded into the chapel, surrounding Elara and Lucian in a protective circle.

Their presence was overwhelming, disciplined, intimidating, and terrifyingly coordinated.

Guests gasped at the sudden turn of events.

A woman screamed softly as someone whispered, "Bodyguards..."

Everybody was shocked. They stared wide-eyed, paralyzed with confusion and fear.

Who are these people?

Where did they come from?

Who called them?

And more importantly... Who is he? That man in a gray suit.

One of the bodyguards, older and bearing the air of authority, stepped forward. He bowed slightly toward Lucian with unmistakable respect and spoke clearly: "Young master, what should we do?"

Young master?