His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 574 Wedding (4)

A hotel room. Dim lighting. Nicolas, shirtless, sitting on the edge of a bed. A woman draped across his lap, her arms around his neck.

The audio crackled, then cleared.

"You’re getting married tomorrow?" The woman’s voice was breathless, teasing, laced with something ugly. "And you’re still here? With me? That’s so cool of you."

Nicolas laughed, that same easy laugh Hazel had heard a thousand times. The laugh she had once thought was charming. Warm.

"Let me enjoy myself while I can," he said, his voice casual and dismissive. "Tomorrow I have to tie myself to her. And I can’t even..." He made a face, his lip curling. "I can’t even touch her, looking at that ugly face of hers."

The woman giggled, pressing closer.

"I’d rather have fun with you," Nicolas added, his hand sliding down her back. "Someone who actually looks like a woman."

The woman’s voice turned sly. "Oh? And what if Leonardo finds out?"

Nicolas laughed again, louder this time, confident and careless.

"Let him find out. What can he even do?" He shrugged, utterly unconcerned. "She trusts me with all her heart, babe. She’s so desperate for love, so broken from that scar, that she’d believe anything I tell her. Leo can scream all he wants. She won’t listen."

The video continued. The sounds grew more intimate, more revealing than any bride should ever have to hear the night before her wedding. Nicolas’s voice shifted, rougher now, murmuring things no man about to marry someone else should ever say.

Hazel watched until the end.

Her face did not change.

When the video finished, the screen went dark. She set the tablet down gently on the vanity.

For a long moment, she simply sat there, staring at nothing. The room around her, the flowers, the light, the beautiful dress, felt like it belonged to someone else. A different woman. A different life.

Then she stood.

She looked at herself. At the scar that had defined her for years. At the face she had learned to hide. At the woman who had trusted a man who called her ugly while lying in another woman’s arms.

Her reflection stared back.

And then, very slowly, Hazel smiled.

It was not a kind smile.

It did not reach her eyes, those electric blue eyes that had gone cold as winter steel. It was the smile of someone who had just learned exactly what she was dealing with. The smile of a hunter who had finally found her prey.

She reached up and touched her scar, tracing its length with one finger.

"Ugly," she murmured to herself.

Then she laughed softly, briefly, a sound with no warmth in it.

She turned away from the mirror and walked to the small table where her mask lay. She picked it up, turned it over in her hands.

And then she set it down again.

Not today.

Today, the mask stayed off.

Today, he would see exactly what he had called ugly. He would see it walking toward him down the aisle. He would see it in front of everyone, his friends, her family, the world.

And then he would see what that "ugly" face could do.

Hazel smoothed her dress, adjusted her veil, and walked toward the door.

Her hand paused on the handle.

One last glance back at the tablet. At the evidence. At the truth she had been too blind to see.

"Thank you, Dominique," she whispered.

Then she opened the door and stepped out to meet her groom.

Meanwhile, Jason spotted Dom the moment he slipped back into the crowd near the seating area. He grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, his eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Bro, where have you been?" Jason hissed. "The ceremony’s about to start. I’ve been covering for you. I told everyone you were in the bathroom with stomach issues. You owe me."

Dominique looked different. There was something in his expression, a lightness, a quiet satisfaction, that had not been there before. His eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Nicolas, who was still standing at the altar, laughing with his groomsmen, adjusting his cufflinks like he did not have a care in the world.

Dom’s gaze narrowed. Sharp. Focused. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

"Well?" Jason prompted, following his line of sight. "What happened? You look like you just won something."

Dom did not answer right away. He just kept staring at Nicolas, that strange half-smile playing on his lips.

"Let’s just say," he murmured finally, "the bride got a wedding gift. From me."

Jason blinked. "What kind of gift?"

Dom’s smile widened, just slightly. Just enough to be unsettling.

"The kind that changes everything."

Before Jason could ask more, the music shifted. A hush fell over the crowd. The processional was beginning.

Everyone turned toward the aisle.

Everyone except Dom.

He kept his eyes on Nicolas, watching, waiting.

The groom stood tall, smiling that perfect smile, completely unaware that his world was about to shatter.

Dom leaned back in his seat, crossed his arms, and settled in for the show.

The music swelled, soft and beautiful, filling the mountain air with something that felt almost sacred.

Everyone turned.

And then a ripple passed through the crowd.

Gasps. Whispers. The quick, sharp intake of breath from someone who had not been prepared.

Hazel appeared at the end of the aisle, her arm linked through her father’s.

She was not wearing the mask.

The scar was fully visible, that brutal, jagged line running from below her left eye to the corner of her jaw. Dark against her pale skin. Deep and unmistakable. It pulled at her lip when she held her face still, giving her expression an almost stern cast.

Some guests looked away quickly, their faces tight with pity they could not quite hide.

Others stared openly, curiosity winning over politeness.

A woman near the back pressed a hand to her mouth. An older man shook his head sadly.

Hazel saw none of them.

Her electric blue eyes were fixed straight ahead, locked onto one person.

Nicolas.

Her face was cold. The kind of cold that comes from somewhere deep and frozen, where feelings go to die.

She walked forward slowly. Her dress flowed around her like water. Her veil caught the mountain light.

But her eyes never broke contact.

Nicolas stood at the altar, his smile frozen on his face.

For a moment, just a moment, something flickered in his expression. Surprise. Guilt. Fear.

It was gone before anyone could name it, replaced by that practiced, charming smile.

Hazel’s father placed her hand in Nicolas’s.

Then he stepped back, his own expression unreadable, and took his seat.

Hazel and Nicolas stood facing each other at the altar.

The minister began to speak. Words about love, commitment, the sacred bond of marriage.

Hazel did not hear any of it.

She just kept looking at Nicolas.