81 My mother-in-law ripped my wig off in front of one hundred and forty-six wedding guests.

While my life was opening up into wide, breathtaking horizons, the Whitmore household was imploding under the weight of its own rot.

With the public backlash showing no signs of slowing down, major institutional investors in Whitmore Commercial Holdings began demanding an emergency shareholder meeting. Margaret, now the sole controlling trustee, attempted to call a press conference to rehabilitate the family brand.

It was an unmitigated disaster.

When reporters pressed her on why she had physically attacked her daughter-in-law, Margaret lost her composure on live television.

“She was an opportunist!” Margaret screamed into the bank of microphones, her face contorting with rage. “She thought she could infect our bloodline! She got what she deserved!”

The video clip went viral instantly.

Within forty-eight hours, two of the holding company’s largest commercial tenants—a national healthcare network and a major tech firm—announced they were breaking their leases, citing ethical clauses in their corporate governance charters.

The stock value plummeted by thirty-two percent in three days.

Evan, cut off from the trust assets and stripped of his executive VP title by a panicked board of directors, found himself living in a rented studio apartment across the river in Cambridge.

Lucas, who had permanently severed his friendship with Evan, stopped by my parents' house one afternoon to drop off the remainder of my personal belongings that had been left in Evan’s car.

“How is he?” my father asked bluntly, leaning against the porch railing.

Lucas shook his head. “He spends all day drinking gin and watching old videos of Nora on his phone. His mother calls him twenty times a day, screaming that he ruined her life. He doesn't pick up. He’s completely alone.”

I listened from the doorway, feeling no joy, but no sorrow either. Evan had built his own cage, bar by gilded bar. He had chosen money over honor, his mother’s approval over his wife’s dignity.

“Tell him I don't hate him,” I said to Lucas.

Lucas looked up, surprised. “Really?”