Chapter 4
The heavy bronze bells of the estate chapel vibrated through the floorboards, a relentless reminder of the ticking clock that hung over the chaotic bridal suite. Mark picked himself up from the shattered glass, his palms bleeding slightly, his tuxedo jacket stained with spilled perfume. He glared at Julian with pure venom, then shifted his frantic eyes back to Elena.
"Ignore him, Elena," Mark rasped, desperately wiping at his stained sleeve. "He escaped from a psychiatric facility. He’s unstable, he’s dangerous, and he’s trying to sabotage the happiest day of our lives. Look at him! He's wearing a stolen suit just to mess with your head."
Julian let out a cold, humorless chuckle, pulling a folded document from his inside breast pocket and holding it out toward Elena without breaking eye contact. "Does a psychiatric patient carry a certified forensic audit of this company’s accounts, signed by our late father three days before his sudden passing? Read it, Elena. See what kind of man you are about to pledge your life to."
Elena looked at the paper in Julian's hand, then at Mark’s terrified, sweating face. The financial trap Mark had threatened her with moments ago suddenly seemed small compared to the vast criminal enterprise she was apparently marrying into. She reached out her free hand, her fingertips brushing the edge of Julian's document, ready to pull it toward her.
With a growl of pure fury, Mark leaped forward, slapping the document out of Julian's hand. It fluttered down into the spilled perfume, the ink instantly blurring into unreadable streaks.
"You insane bastard!" Mark yelled, grabbing Julian by the lapels of his suit. "You're going back today, and this time I'm making sure they throw away the key!"
"You won't be throwing anyone anywhere, Mark," a calm, chilling voice spoke from the doorway.
All three of them whipped their heads toward the entrance. Leaning casually against the doorframe was Detective Vance of the state police, flanked by two uniformed officers whose heavy boots clicked menacingly against the polished floor. Vance held a warrant in his hand, his eyes scanning the chaotic room with professional detachment.
"Mark Sterling, and you as well... Julian Sterling," Detective Vance stated, stepping into the room with deliberate slowness. "We have received a verified tip regarding corporate fraud, kidnapping, and the falsification of a death certificate. Nobody is going anywhere until we sort this out."
Elena exhaled a breath she didn't realize she’d been holding, the weight of the roses in her arms suddenly feeling unbearable. She let the bouquet drop; it hit the floor with a soft thud, scattering white and pink petals across the ruined perfume.
Mark turned pale as death, his hands slowly dropping from Julian’s lapel. He looked at the police officers, then slowly turned his head to stare directly into Elena’s eyes with a look of pure betrayal.
"You called them," Mark whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of shock and hatred. "You called the police before you even walked down the aisle."
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"I didn't call anyone," Elena said steadily, her voice echoing in the silent room.
Julian smiled faintly, stepping past the stunned police officers and toward the open window. "I did," Julian said softly. And then, without warning, he leaped backward out the second-story window.
