My Father Stole My Inheritance For My Sister's Wedding, So I Exposed Him

The Crimson Toast

The heavy mahogany doors of the Grand Carlyle ballroom swung open with a soft, ominous click. Callie stood in the threshold, her silhouette framed by the harsh hallway light before she stepped into the dimly lit, high-end banquet suite. She wore a dark green velvet gown that draped elegantly to the floor, a stark contrast to the pastel tones of the high-society guests. Her brown bob was styled in a sharp, flawless cut, and her lips were painted in a striking scarlet lipstick that matched the fire burning in her chest. In her right hand, she lightly held a crystal flute of bubbling champagne.

At the far end of the room, beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers, stood Andrew. His silver hair caught the light, and his formal black suit was immaculate. Next to him was Bianca, his golden-child stepdaughter, clutching a pristine bouquet of white gardenias. They were the picture of wealth and happiness—until Callie stepped forward.

The whispers began almost instantly. Callie ignored them, her eyes locked onto her father. With every step she took, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. The camera of public opinion turned to her as she raised her glass. Her face shifted from a freezing, calculated glare into a bitter, disgusted snarl.

"To a lifetime of beautiful lies," Callie said, her voice cutting through the ambient chatter like a blade. "And to the man who stole from his own blood to pay for it."

Andrew’s face flushed a deep, angry crimson. He stepped forward, his fists clenching at his sides. Behind him, Bianca gasped in horror, the white gardenias trembling in her hands. The facade of the perfect family was cracking, and the guests watched in breathless silence as the real drama began to unfold.