Lex noticed immediately.

He noticed everything.

The seating arrangements were correct. The flowers were correct. The lighting, the timing, the guest list—all correct.

And then there was the dress.

White.

Not ivory. Not cream. Not champagne.

White.

He didn’t look at the woman for long. He didn’t need to. He recognized her. He remembered exactly why she wasn’t supposed to be a problem anymore.

But that wasn’t the issue.

The issue was that his wife had seen it too.

He saw the exact moment it registered—her smile tightening just slightly, the way her posture changed, the way she looked away like she didn’t want to make it a scene.

Unhappy.

On his wedding day.

Unacceptable.

Lex adjusted his cufflinks, expression calm, composed, like nothing at all was wrong.

Then he leaned slightly toward one of the staff.

He didn’t even look at him when he spoke.

“…The woman in the white dress,” he said quietly. “Spill something on her.”

A pause.

“Red,” he added. “Wine. Something that stains.”

Another pause.

“Make it look like an accident.”

He straightened again, gaze moving back to the guests, to the room, to the event that was supposed to be perfect.

He spoke one more time, voice quiet, certain.

“My wife will not be unhappy at her own wedding,” Lex said. “Handle it.”