My mother-in-law strips me naked at the rehearsal dinner, calling me a gold digger… But she doesn’t know my quiet father owns the entire hotel chain.

The crystal chandeliers of the Plaza ballroom cast golden light over 150 guests as Diane Worthington raised her champagne glass. Her son Michael stood beside her, beaming in his tuxedo.

“To my future daughter-in-law, Emma,” Diane announced, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

I smoothed my silk rehearsal dress, feeling the familiar knot in my stomach. Something was wrong.

“Emma claims to love Michael for who he is,” Diane continued, her smile turning predatory. “But we all know what she really wants.”

The room fell silent. Michael’s face went pale.

“Mother, what are you—”

“She’s a gold digger!” Diane shrieked, lunging toward me. Her manicured nails caught my dress straps. “Let’s show everyone what you really are!”

The silk tore with a violent rip. My dress pooled at my feet.

Gasps echoed through the ballroom. Phones appeared, cameras flashing. I stood there in my underwear, trembling, as Diane poured her champagne over my head.

“Look at this!” She waved a printed photo. “I found her escort profile online! She’s been selling herself!”

The photo was clearly fake—my head photoshopped onto another woman’s body. But the damage was done.

“You disgusting whore!” Diane screamed. “You thought you could trap my son?”

Tears streamed down my face. The elite crowd whispered and pointed. Some laughed. Others filmed everything.

Michael just stood there, frozen.

In the corner, my father James watched quietly, phone pressed to his ear. I’d introduced him as “a hotel manager” to avoid judgment. He’d agreed to stay quiet about our family’s wealth.

“Security is on the way,” he said calmly, ending his call.

Diane whirled around. “Security? For what? To throw out this trash?”

“No,” my father replied, stepping forward. “To lock the exits.”

The ballroom doors slammed shut with a thunderous bang. Twenty security guards in black suits surrounded the room.

“What is this?” Diane demanded.

My father straightened his tie. “I’m James Sinclair. I own this hotel. I own this entire chain, actually.”

The room