Lina’s hands were trembling so violently that the phone almost slipped from her grasp. She fumbled with the screen, her dirty thumb hovering over the play icon. She prayed silently that the battery wouldn’t die, that the file hadn’t corrupted, that the volume would be loud enough. She pressed the button.
For a heartbeat, there was only the crackle of static, and Lina’s stomach plummeted. But then, Clara’s voice sliced through the air, tinny but unmistakably sharp.
— Raphael trusts me completely. The poor fool is so in love, he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.
Raphael’s face, which had been filled with concern, instantly went ashen. It was as if the blood had been drained from his body.
The lawyer’s voice followed, dry and calculating.
— Once Raphael signs them as your husband, the automatic transfer happens. Half of everything he owns becomes yours, by law.
Raphael’s hands, hanging by his sides, began to shake. He stared at the phone as if it were a venomous snake coiling in Lina’s palm.
Clara’s voice returned, dripping with a cruelty that made Lina flinch even now.
— He actually thinks I love him. Rich, lonely widower with a hero complex? Easy target.
Raphael took a staggering step backward, looking as though he had been physically punched in the gut. More voices poured from the tiny speaker. The discussion about the power of attorney. Clara’s ruthless plan to freeze his accounts. Her dismissal of the Foundation.
And then, the dagger to the heart.
— I’ve been planning this since the day I met him. I went to every boring charity event. I smiled at every dirty homeless person. I pretended to care about his dead wife and his sad little backstory. All of it was worth it for this payoff.
The recording ended with a soft click.
A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the church entrance. Everyone who had gathered to watch the spectacle—the security guards, the late guests, the chauffeurs—was frozen. Their mouths hung open in collective shock.
Raphael’s face had shifted from pale to a terrified grey. His hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white. His jaw was set so hard that Lina could see a muscle jumping frantically in his cheek.
— When did you record this? — he asked quietly. His voice sounded strange—flat, brittle, and utterly devoid of emotion, as if his soul had just been scooped out.
— Four days ago, — Lina whispered, looking up at him. — Thursday night. They were planning everything.
Raphael nodded slowly, robotically. He lifted his gaze to the open doors of the church. Inside, his bride was waiting at the altar. Two hundred guests were sitting in the pews, anticipating a celebration of love. The priest was likely checking his watch, confused about the delay.
— What are you going to do? — Lina asked, her voice trembling.
Raphael turned back to her. For a fleeting second, Lina saw something shattered in his eyes—a raw mix of agony, betrayal, and humiliation. But then, like a steel shutter slamming down, his expression hardened. His shoulders squared. His chin lifted.
— I’m going to stop this wedding, — he said. His voice was no longer flat; it was vibrating with determination. — Wait here.
He turned on his heel and marched back into the church.
Lina stood at the entrance, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. The security guards stared at her in disbelief, their previous aggression replaced by awe. The guests who had witnessed the scene whispered urgently to one another.
Through the open doors, Lina watched Raphael walk back down the aisle. He didn’t walk with the joyous stride of a groom anymore; he walked with the grim purpose of an executioner. Every head in the church turned to follow him. The murmurs inside grew louder, a rising tide of confusion.
Raphael reached the altar where Clara stood. She looked radiant in her white dress, holding her bouquet of orchids, smiling with that practiced, perfect sweetness. When she saw Raphael’s face, however, her smile faltered.
— Raphael? — she said, her voice pitched loud enough for the microphone to catch, carrying to the back of the room where Lina stood. — What’s wrong? Why did you leave?
Raphael didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at her. He really looked at her, as if he were seeing a stranger for the first time. He was searching for the woman he thought he loved and finding only a mirage.
Then, he turned his back on her to face the crowd of guests.
— I need everyone to listen carefully, — Raphael said. His voice, amplified by the church’s acoustics, boomed through the sanctuary. — There’s been a… situation. Something I just learned. Something that changes everything.
Clara’s face went white. She took a step toward him, reaching out a hand.
— Raphael, what are you talking about? Come on, everyone’s waiting. Let’s just…
— The wedding is cancelled, — Raphael announced.
The church erupted. It wasn’t just a murmur anymore; it was chaos. People jumped to their feet. Someone in the front row screamed. Others started shouting questions all at once. What? Why? What’s happening?
Clara’s perfect mask cracked. Her face twisted into panic.
— Raphael, you’re not making sense! — she cried out, her laugh sounding hysterical. — You’re just nervous! It’s wedding day jitters! It happens to everyone! Come on, let’s just—
— Stop, — Raphael said coldly. — Just stop talking.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone. He must have transferred the file, or perhaps he had recorded the playback from Lina’s phone. He held his device up to the lapel microphone clipped to his suit.
— The poor fool is so in love, he doesn’t see what’s right in front of him.
Clara’s voice, amplified to a deafening volume, filled the entire church. Her eyes went wide with pure horror. The blood drained from her face so fast she looked like she might faint.
— Rich, lonely widower with a hero complex? Easy target.
Gasps echoed through the vaulted ceiling. Guests turned to stare at the bride. Some looked shocked, covering their mouths. Others looked disgusted.
— I pretended to care about his dead wife and his sad little backstory. All of it was worth it for this payoff.
Raphael hit the stop button. The silence that followed was heavier than the stone walls of the church. It was deafening.
— Would you like to explain? — Raphael asked Clara. His voice was quiet, but it was filled with a barely controlled rage that was more terrifying than any shout. — Or should I play the rest? The part where you discuss stealing my fortune? Or maybe the part where you call the people I help “dirty homeless people” and say my charity work is a waste?
Clara opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, the orchids in her bouquet trembling. Her perfectly applied makeup couldn’t hide the sheer terror in her eyes.
— This is a mistake, — she finally squeaked. Her voice was high and desperate. — That recording… it’s fake. Someone edited it! Someone is trying to ruin us, Raphael! Can’t you see? We can’t let them win!
— Fake? — Raphael’s laugh was bitter and harsh. — That’s your defense? I know your voice, Clara. I’ve listened to it for six months. Every word on that recording is you.
Suddenly, movement in the third pew caught everyone’s attention. Clara’s lawyer, the thin man Lina had seen sneaking into the church at night, stood up abruptly. He began pushing his way frantically toward the side exit, knocking into other guests.
Raphael pointed a shaking finger at him.
— Stop that man! — Raphael shouted. — Security! Don’t let him leave!
The security guards—the same ones who had tried to throw Lina out minutes ago—rushed into the church with newfound purpose. They intercepted the lawyer before he could reach the heavy oak doors. He struggled and shouted, “Let me go! I haven’t done anything!”
— You’re the one who drew up the fraudulent documents, — Raphael called out from the altar. — I heard you on the recording. You’re not going anywhere until the police arrive.
— Police? — Clara’s voice cracked. She looked around wildly, like a trapped animal searching for a hole in the fence. — Raphael, please. We can talk about this. We can work this out. I made a mistake, okay? I was confused! I didn’t mean…
— You didn’t mean to get caught, — Raphael interrupted, his voice like ice. — That’s what you didn’t mean.
He turned away from her and began walking down the aisle.
Clara tried to follow him, stumbling in her high heels and the heavy layers of her dress. She grabbed at his sleeve.
— Raphael, please! I love you! I really do love you! Whatever you heard, it was just… I was just venting!
Raphael stopped. He didn’t turn around.
— You were just planning to destroy my life, — he said to the air ahead of him. — You were just going to steal everything I’ve worked for. You were just going to eliminate the foundation that helps hungry children.
He slowly turned to face her one last time.
— Tell me something, Clara. Did you ever care about me at all? Even a little bit?
Clara’s mouth opened and closed. Tears were running down her face now, carving black streaks of mascara through her foundation. But Lina, watching from the entrance, knew that Clara wasn’t crying because she was sorry. She was crying because the game was over.
— I asked you a question, — Raphael said.
— I… I cared about you, — Clara stammered. — I did! It just… things got complicated. I had debts, Raphael. Huge debts. I needed money. And you have so much. I thought…
— You thought you’d trick me into marrying you and then steal it all, — Raphael finished for her. — Don’t try to make this sound like anything other than what it is. You’re a thief. A liar. And I almost fell for it.
He looked out at the crowd of shocked guests, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces.
— I apologize to all of you for wasting your time today, — he said, his voice breaking slightly. — The wedding is cancelled. There will be no reception. Please go home.
Then, Raphael turned and walked toward the entrance where Lina was still standing. The crowd parted for him instinctively, like he was Moses crossing the Red Sea. No one dared to speak to him. No one tried to stop him.
When he reached the vestibule, he stopped in front of Lina. He ignored the guards. He ignored the photographers who were frantically snapping pictures of the chaos. He knelt down on the hard stone floor, ignoring the dust on his expensive tuxedo trousers, so that he was directly at eye level with the dirty, frightened girl.
Up close, Lina could see the devastation in his face. The betrayal and hurt of a man who had been fooled by the person he trusted most in the world. But beneath the pain, there was gratitude.
— Thank you, — he said quietly. — You saved my life today. You know that?
Lina nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt shaky and exhausted. Her knees felt like jelly.
— What’s your name? — Raphael asked gently.
— Lina, — she whispered.
— Lina, — Raphael repeated, testing the sound of it. — That’s a beautiful name. How old are you?
— Twelve.
Raphael’s eyes filled with a fresh wave of sadness. He looked at her torn sneakers, her dirty coat, the smudges of grime on her cheeks.
— And you’ve been sleeping in the church? Homeless?
Lina nodded again, shame heating her face.
— For how long?
— Two years, — she said softly. — Since my mom died.
Raphael closed his eyes for a moment, as if the information physically hurt him. He took a deep, shuddering breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were wet with unshed tears.
— Not anymore, — he said firmly. — Do you understand me? As of right now, you’re not homeless anymore.
Behind them, the wail of sirens grew louder. The police had arrived. Officers swarmed into the church, heading straight for the altar where Clara and her lawyer were standing. Someone was taking statements. The church was absolute chaos—guests leaving in confused groups, photographers shouting, people crying.
But Raphael ignored all of it. He kept his entire focus on Lina.
— Where are your things? — he asked. — Do you have belongings somewhere?
— Just a blanket, — Lina said. — Behind the back bench.
— Okay. We’ll get that. And then… — Raphael paused, seeming to gather his scattered thoughts. — Look, I know this is all happening very fast. And I know you don’t know me, not really. But I want to help you. I want to give you a safe place to stay. Food. School. Everything a kid should have. Would that be okay?
Lina stared at him. She’d spent two years learning the hard way not to trust anyone. Adults lied. Adults hurt you. Adults promised things and then disappeared when it became inconvenient.
But Raphael Anderson had just cancelled his wedding in front of hundreds of people because of what she had told him. He had believed her when nobody else would have. He had listened to a homeless girl instead of his beautiful bride.
— Why? — Lina asked, her voice trembling. — Why would you help me?
Raphael smiled sadly.
— Because someone helped me once, when I was young and had nothing. My mother worked herself to exhaustion to give me a chance. She taught me that when you have the ability to help someone, you do it. No questions asked.
He looked back at the chaos in the church, then back to her.
— And because you helped me when I needed it most. You gave me the truth when everyone else was lying. That’s worth more than money, Lina. That’s worth everything.
A police officer approached them, notebook in hand.
— Mr. Anderson? We need to ask you some questions about the situation.
— One moment, — Raphael said, holding up a hand. He looked back at Lina. — Will you wait for me? I need to deal with this mess. But after that, you and I are going to talk about your future. Okay?
Lina hesitated, then nodded.
— Okay.