My Mother Died At My Wedding Chapter 21

No one spoke in Lily’s defense anymore. Her carefully curated image crumbled as the crowd began to step back, leaving her to face Jack’s wrath alone.
What infuriated the crowd even more was the realization that Lily had manipulated their sympathy, twisting the truth to paint Freya, the rightful wife, as the mistress.
They believed her lies, defended her, and even stood in front of her to protect her. Now, they felt utterly betrayed.
Anger burned in their eyes as the crowd turned on Lily.
How could she exploit their kindness and deceive them so thoroughly?
As the saying goes, “The power that supports you can also destroy you.”
The moment Lily stumbled toward them, seeking refuge, she was overwhelmed by the mob’s fury.
They unleashed their anger with punches, kicks, and a barrage of insults.
Words like “homewrecker” and “disgrace” were the mildest among the torrent of verbal abuse.
In their eyes, Lily’s actions were unforgivable, and their rage boiled over as they sought justice for Freya.
Jack stood at a distance, his expression cold and unyielding. He waited patiently, unmoved, until he deemed the chaos had gone far enough. Only then did he signal his bodyguards to step in and pull the crowd away from Lily.
He approached slowly, his commanding presence silencing the chaos.
Using the tip of his polished shoe, he lifted Lily’s bruised and tear-streaked face, his tone icy.
“Apologize publicly on every platform. Admit what you’ve done to Freya. Get rid of the child, delete your accounts, and disappear. I don’t want to see you again.”
His voice left no room for negotiation. There was no trace of softness and no hint of pity. To Jack, Lily was nothing more than a pawn, and pawns were meant to be discarded.
Lily lay crumpled on the ground, battered and humiliated, but her hands instinctively shielded her stomach.
Even as the crowd had attacked her, hurling insults and blows, she had protected her stomach with every ounce of her strength.
That child was her last hope, her only chance of holding on to the life she had once imagined. If the baby survived, perhaps she still had a path forward.