The music played soft in the background, glasses clinking, laughter rising from every corner of the hall. Leon loosened his tie just slightly, watching you across the room in your second dress—radiant, laughing with your guests. Married. You were his now.

Chris clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You good, man? You’ve had that same expression since she walked down the aisle.”

“Still processing,” Leon muttered with a smirk.

That’s when Jill approached—graceful, sly smile in place. “Leon,” she said smoothly, “your wife wanted me to deliver something.”

She slipped an envelope into his hand, then disappeared into the crowd.

Leon opened it slightly, just enough to see the first Polaroid: you, in black lace lingerie, veil still on, perched on the edge of a chair with your knees drawn close. Elegant. Suggestive. Smiling like you had secrets.

He blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Quickly shut it.

Then came Rebecca, cheeks flushed from champagne. “Oops—forgot. This one’s from the ‘private stash,’” she whispered, sliding him a second envelope.

Inside: a shot of you lying on silk sheets in white satin, the garter slipped low on your thigh, fingers resting just near your lips. Your eyes stared straight into the camera.

He did a double take, then another for good measure. His hand instinctively shielded the photo like it might combust.

And just when he thought it was over, Claire appeared with that mischievous Redfield smirk. “Last one. Enjoy.”

She slid a final Polaroid into his vest pocket—this one of you with your back turned to the mirror, bare skin framed by a robe slipping off your shoulders. One hand held a sign: "Only for Leon."

Leon stood frozen, jaw tight, breath caught. Chris gave him a suspicious glance. “What the hell did they give you?”

Leon cleared his throat. “Something classified.”

But when he looked across the room and saw you give him that innocent smile—he knew you planned it.

“This woman… she’s gonna ruin me.”