Chapter 6 - The Exit Strategy
The cold reality of her situation hit Stephanie like a physical blow as she stepped out of the cathedral doors into the blinding afternoon glare. The sidewalk was entirely empty. The luxury stretch limousine that had brought her here like royalty was gone, its driver undoubtedly paid off by Charles’s security detail to return to the estate without her. There was no red carpet, no cheering crowd of socialites, and certainly no ride to the reception hall where three hundred guests were currently eating hors d'oeuvres in complete ignorance of the disaster.
She reached instinctively into her gown for her clutch, only to remember it was sitting on the head table inside the reception venue—a venue she could no longer enter without facing a barrage of ruined business partners and furious family members.
A yellow cab drifted down the avenue, its driver eyeing her suspiciously through the partition as she flagged him down with a desperate wave. She yanked the door open and slid across the worn vinyl upholstery, ignoring the way her expensive lace hem dragged through the grit on the floorboard.
“Take me to the Grand Horizon Hotel,” she commanded, trying to sound authoritative, though her voice shook violently.
The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, taking in the tear-streaked makeup, the disheveled blonde hair with bits of veil still tangled in the strands, and the frantic gleam in her eyes.
“That’ll be fifty bucks upfront, lady. Meter doesn't run without a deposit,” the driver grunted, cutting the engine while they waited at a red light.
Stephanie froze. Her purse, her credit cards, her emergency cash—all of it was locked inside her designer clutch on the head table at the reception. She didn't even have her phone, having left it discarded on the church pew.
“I’m Stephanie Sterling,” she said, puffing out her chest with what little dignity she had left. “My father is Arthur Sterling. Drive me to the hotel, and he will pay you triple.”
The driver snorted, putting the car back in park. “Lady, I don’t care if your dad is the president. Cash upfront, or out of the cab.”
Humiliation burned hot and sharp beneath her skin. For the first time in her twenty-six years of life, Stephanie Sterling was entirely powerless, stripped of her father’s influence and her fiancé’s billions. She shoved the door open, tumbling awkwardly out onto the concrete sidewalk as the cab accelerated away, leaving her standing alone in a cloud of exhaust fumes.
She began to walk toward her family’s penthouse three miles away, her designer satin heels clicking a desperate, frantic rhythm against the pavement. By the time she reached the wrought-iron gates of her father’s estate, her feet were bleeding blisters, and the immaculate white wedding dress was stained grey at the hem.
She pressed the intercom button with a trembling finger, waiting for the familiar click of the security gate.
“Dad,” she sobbed into the speaker. “Open the gate. Please.”
The speaker crackled, and her father’s voice came through, but it didn’t sound like the proud patriarch she knew. It sounded ancient, tired, and utterly broken.
May you like
“Stephanie,” Arthur Sterling said heavily. “Don’t come inside. The marshals are already here.”
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