Orla's face crumpled as she stared at the marriage certificate still displayed on the screen. Her carefully constructed world was collapsing around her. The hushed whispers of the elite guests felt like razor blades against her skin.
Before she could compose herself, the large screen flickered. The marriage certificate disappeared, replaced by security footage. The timestamp showed yesterday's date.
The video showed Orla entering one of the Covington mansion's service areas. She was speaking with two uniformed maids, handing them something that looked like a flash drive. Their voices came through the speakers with crystal clarity.
"Make sure this plays exactly fifteen minutes into Mr. Covington's speech," Orla was saying. "Those photos will destroy her."
One of the maids nodded. "And we'll be compensated as promised?"
"Double what I initially offered if you make sure no one traces it back to me," Orla replied, her smile confident and cruel.
