Beatrice's eyes widened as my words registered. "Your marriage certificate?"
I nodded, reaching for my clutch. "Yes. I've been trying to tell you—"
The sudden hush that fell over the ballroom stopped me mid-sentence. All eyes turned toward the entrance, where Arthur stood in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as he strode through the center of the room, his presence commanding attention without effort.
"We'll continue this conversation shortly," I whispered to Beatrice, who looked both confused and concerned.
Arthur approached the small stage where a string quartet had been playing. With a subtle gesture, he silenced the musicians and took the microphone. The entire room held its breath.
