His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.-Chapter 576 Who Will Love You?

"I saw it." Hazel’s voice finally cracked, just slightly. "With my own eyes. On video. You. Her. Your voice." She pulled her hands from his grip as if touching him burned. "I heard what you said about me. About my face. About how you couldn’t even bring yourself to—"

She stopped. Swallowed. Composed herself.

Around them, the silence was absolute. Three hundred people holding their breath.

Nicolas opened his mouth, but nothing came out. For the first time, the smooth talker had no words.

Kevin Moretti rose from his seat. His face was dark and dangerous, his eyes fixed on Nicolas like a wolf sizing up prey.

"You touched my daughter," he said quietly. "You called her ugly. And you did it while engaged to her?"

"Mr. Moretti, I—"

"Don’t." Kevin’s voice was soft. Deadly. "Don’t say another word to me."

Nicolas looked desperately toward his parents. Valeria’s expression had shifted. The calculating look was gone, replaced by something harder. Colder. She knew a sinking ship when she saw one.

Richard stood slowly. He looked at his son with an expression that held no warmth.

"Did you do it?" His voice was flat.

"Dad, I—"

"Did. You. Do. It."

Nicolas’s shoulders sagged. His mouth opened. Closed.

The silence was his answer.

Richard turned away. Walked back to his seat. Sat down. Said nothing more.

Nicolas stood alone at the altar, abandoned by everyone in the space of a few minutes.

Hazel watched him for a long moment. Then she reached up and removed her veil. She set it on the minister’s podium and turned to leave.

"Hazel, wait—" Nicolas grabbed her arm.

He did not get to finish the sentence.

Leo was there in three strides. His hand closed around Nicolas’s wrist and squeezed, hard enough to make Nicolas cry out and release her.

"You don’t touch her," Leo said quietly. "You don’t speak to her. You don’t even look at her. Not ever again."

Nicolas stumbled back, cradling his wrist, his face pale with pain and fear.

Hazel did not look back.

She walked down the aisle alone, her dress trailing behind her, her scar catching the mountain light. People parted for her like water. No one reached out. No one knew what to say.

The silence was heavy, broken only by the soft whisper of her dress against the white runner.

Then—

"Wait! Hazel!"

Nicolas’s voice tore through the quiet, desperate and sharp. He was clutching his wrist where Leo had gripped it, his face twisted with pain, but he stumbled forward anyway, chasing after her.

Hazel stopped.

She did not turn immediately. She just stood there, her back to him, the mountain stretching endlessly beyond the arch.

Then she looked back.

And the look on her face made several guests draw in sharp breaths.

It was not sadness. It was not anger. It was something colder, a quiet, terrifying stillness that made Nicolas freeze mid-step.

"Stop it, Nicolas." Her voice was calm. Controlled. The kind of calm that comes before storms. "You don’t want to end everything in violence, do you?"

His eyes darted to Leo, who stood like a shadow beside him, gray eyes fixed on Nicolas with the patient focus of a predator. Leo’s expression did not change, but something in his stance shifted, a readiness that made Nicolas’s skin crawl.

"No, no, but think again." Nicolas’s voice cracked, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. "If you leave me right now, who will marry you? Huh? Think about it!" He gestured wildly at her scar, at her face, at everything she had hidden for so long. "Are you sure anyone will love you? With that—" He stopped himself, but the damage was done.

Everyone heard it.

The implication hung in the air like poison.

Hazel stared at him.

For a long, terrible moment, she just looked at the man she had almost married. The man who had whispered sweet words in her ear. The man who had held her hand and promised forever.

Now he stood there, exposed and desperate, trying to wound her one last time.

And then—

She let out a low, amused laugh.

It was not a happy laugh. Not a sad one either. It was the laugh of someone who had just realized the punchline to a very cruel joke.

"You think," she said slowly, still smiling that terrible smile, "that the problem is whether someone will love me?"

Nicolas blinked, thrown.

"Hazel, I’m just saying—"

"I know what you’re saying." She tilted her head, studying him like a specimen. "You’re saying that my worth is tied to whether a man wants me. You’re saying that being alone is worse than being with someone who calls me ugly behind my back."

She stepped toward him, just one step, but it made him flinch.

"Let me tell you something, Nicolas." Her voice dropped, soft and deadly. "I would rather spend the rest of my life alone in a cabin on this mountain than spend one more minute with you. I would rather never be touched again than be touched by hands that held someone else the night before our wedding."

His face went white.

"I don’t need anyone to love me," Hazel continued. "I need to love myself. And I can’t do that with you in my life."

She turned away again.

"But Hazel—"

"Let her go."

The voice came from the crowd. Quiet and firm.

Jenna stood, tears streaming down her face, but her chin was lifted. She looked at her daughter with pride blazing in her eyes.

"Let her go, Nicolas. You’ve done enough."

Nicolas stared at her, mouth open.

Kevin stood beside his wife, his face carved from granite. "If you speak to my daughter again, I will personally ensure you regret it."

Nicolas looked around wildly.

Meanwhile, while everyone was busy staring at Nicolas, Dom slipped away. Quietly. Quickly. Like a shadow.

He melted into the crowd, then out of it, heading toward the path that led away from the ceremony site. Toward where Hazel had disappeared moments ago.

No one noticed.

Except Jason.

He watched Dom’s retreating back with narrowed eyes, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

"Lover boy," he whispered under his breath, shaking his head.

Beside him, a voice piped up.

"What did you say?"