Mark stepped directly into Clara's personal space, his chest heaving with anger as he tried to intimidate her. He looked around nervously, noticing that Evelyn and her father were standing near the center bar, slowly looking over in their direction. Mark felt a rush of panic, worrying that his rich future father-in-law would ask who Clara was. Instead of handling the situation with maturity, he allowed his insecurity to turn into pure rage. He raised his arm suddenly and brought his open hand hard across Clara's face, the sharp sound ringing out across the hardwood floor.
Mark: Get out! You're not invited!
The loud slap cut through the air like a gunshot, instantly killing the ambient party noise and bringing the music to a sudden halt. Clara's head snapped to the side from the force of the blow, and her cheek burned with an intense, fiery pain. A shockwave of silence fell over the entire ballroom as dozens of eyes turned toward them. Evelyn gasped from the center of the room, dropping her champagne glass onto the floor where it shattered into dozens of tiny pieces. Clara slowly raised her hand to her stinging cheek, feeling the swelling skin beneath her fingertips as tears filled her eyes.
Clara: You really want me to leave?
Mark: Yes! Now!
Mark pointed a harsh finger toward the grand exit doors, his voice echoing off the high crown molding of the ceiling. He felt a small wave of regret as he saw Clara's tear-filled eyes, but his stubborn pride kept him from backing down. He believed she was just making a scene to embarrass him, and he wanted her gone before any real damage was done to his standing. Clara looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes for any sign of the brother she used to love, but she found only cruel arrogance.
Clara wiped a stray tear from her face with the back of her hand and took a deep breath to steady her chest. She reached into her handbag and pulled out her modern smartphone, her fingers moving quickly across the screen without hesitation. The guests watched in complete silence as she held the phone up to her ear, listening to the quiet ringtone echoing in the quiet hall. Mark frowned, feeling a sudden chill in his stomach as he watched her calm, cold expression replace her sadness.
Clara: Cancel everything.
Mark: What did you just cancel?
Clara: Your wedding.
Mark froze in place, his broad shoulders instantly dropping as his eyes went wide with sheer terror. The collective gasp from the surrounding guests echoed through the grand room, with several wealthy women covering their mouths in utter shock. Mark looked at Clara's face, trying to figure out if she was bluffing, but the resolute fire in her eyes told him she was entirely serious. He took a nervous step toward her, his arrogant demeanor completely vanishing in a fraction of a second.
Mark: Clara, stop playing games. What do you mean, cancel my wedding?
Clara: I mean the venue, the catering, the musical band, and the flowers for next month. I paid for all of it under my name.
Mark: You can't do that! That's my wedding!
Clara: It was your wedding. But since I am just an uninvited nobody, I see no reason to fund it.