At the engagement banquet, champagne flutes caught the glitter of crystal chandeliers. Just as Stella Hart reached for the ring Adrian Hawthorne offered, she suddenly turned, her fingertip gliding across the front row of guests—stopping at Victor Miller’s face. “I choose him,” she said, voice calm but cutting through the room like a blade. Silence crashed over the crowd. Victor froze. He was top of the “gold-digger” list—a man who targeted heiresses, swindled fortunes, made headlines, and vanished without a trace. But today, he was merely a pawn brought in to stir chaos, a trap designed to test Stella’s loyalty. He smirked, then signaled the press waiting outside. Cameras flooded in, flashes exploding like fireworks. “Baby, you sure?” He tilted her chin up. “I’ll bankrupt you. And I’ll put your tear-streaked, smudged makeup on the front page.” Stella didn’t flinch. Instead, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, “You know why the Hawthornes picked you as bait? Because you’re just stupid enough to be useful.” Before he could react, she stepped back, yanked a photo from her clutch, and slapped it onto the table—Victor caught in secret meetings with Adrian’s stepmother, complete with timestamps, locations, and offshore transfer records. “You slept with his father’s mistress,” she declared, scanning the stunned audience. “And the money came from his aunt’s offshore account. So tell me—whose farce is this engagement really serving?” Gasps erupted. Then Adrian stepped forward, his black tuxedo sharp as a blade. In his hands, he held a diamond-encrusted golden pistol, which he extended toward Stella. “For you. From now on, anyone who touches you disappears.” She took the gun, fingers tracing the barrel, then smiled coldly. “You say you’ll protect me—but really, you just want to use our marriage to secure a board seat, don’t you?” The air stilled. In one motion, Stella raised the gun and fired at the ceiling—*bang.* Shards of glass rained down like icy tears. Before three hundred elite guests, she tore the marriage contract into pieces, paper fluttering like snow. Then, heels clicking, she strode toward Adrian and murmured in his ear: “Did you think I was choosing a husband? No. I was clearing the board.” As she walked away, every phone in the room vibrated at once. A viral alert exploded across social media: #StellaHartHackedVictor’sPhone Attached: a video of Victor in pink pajamas dancing Swan Lake, complete with audio of him sobbing and begging for mercy. The city roared with laughter. But the real storm was hidden beneath her dress—inside the silver heels, a micro hard drive embedded in the heel, packed with fifteen years of the Hawthorne family’s darkest secrets. She left without love, without grace. But she left with one message: “Next time you play the marriage game, check whether your opponent has already hidden a knife in her wedding gown.” Stella was destroyed by the man she loved and his mistress. Her family, her name, her life were all g