Julian: Victoria... who is this woman? What is she talking about?
Victoria: She’s an imposter, Julian! She’s a crazy beggar trying to ruin our wedding day!
Scarred Woman: Look at me closely, Julian. Look past the scars your bride paid for.
Julian stepped to the edge of the stage, his hands trembling as he stared down at the disfigured face. The room was so quiet that the faint hum of the air conditioner echoed like thunder.
Julian: My God... Clara? Is that really you?
Clara: Yes, Julian. It’s Clara. Your biological sister. The true heir to the Sterling estate.
Victoria: She’s lying! Clara Sterling died in the East Wing fire! We buried her three years ago!
Clara: You buried an empty coffin, Victoria. While you locked me in a private clinic across the state line!
Victoria: Security! Drag her out of here! Shoot her if you have to!
Four tall security guards in black suits stepped forward, but Julian held up his hand, his voice cold and commanding.
Julian: Nobody moves! If anyone touches her, you’re fired on the spot!
Victoria: Julian! You're listening to a monster over your own bride?!
Julian: I’m listening to a woman who has my late father’s eyes, Victoria! Clara... how did you survive?
Clara: The fire wasn't an electrical accident, Julian. Victoria hired the maintenance chief to lock my bedroom doors from the outside before sparking the breaker box.
A wave of loud whispers swept through the two hundred high-society guests. Victoria’s mother, standing in the front row in a gold gown, covered her face in shock.
Guest A: Did she just say Victoria set the fire?!
Guest B: Look at the death certificate on the table! It has the city registry stamp!
Victoria: That paper is a fake! She printed it out in a basement!
Clara: The paper carries the official digital notary mark of Dr. Harrison, Victoria. The same doctor who received two hundred thousand dollars from your offshore account three days after the fire.
Victoria’s face drained of all color. She took a step back on her high heels, her white lace dress rustling against the stage floor.
Julian: Is this true, Victoria? Did you transfer money to Dr. Harrison?
Victoria: I... I donated to his medical research foundation! It was a tax write-off!
Clara: It was a bribe to sign a forged death certificate while I lay in a coma with third-degree burns!
Julian: Clara... why didn't you come to me sooner? Why wait three years?
Clara: Because every time I tried to wake up, her doctors kept me sedated. It took me three years to crawl out of that hellhole, Julian. And I walked miles on bare feet just to stand in front of you tonight.
Clara pointed her scarred, bandaged hand toward the glass table where the forged document lay beside the wedding cake.
Clara: Read the second page, Julian. Read who signed the property transfer papers while I was declared dead.