Chapter 3
The ballroom lights flickered once, then died entirely, plunging the reception hall into an eerie, amber-tinted gloom cast only by the emergency exit signs. Julian’s hand dropped from Clara’s arm, his fingers brushing against the dark blue velvet ring box still clutched in his palm. The diamond inside felt heavy, an anchor tethering them to a nightmare they hadn’t voted to join.
"Where are our guests?" Clara demanded, her voice cutting through the heavy air with a sharp, metallic edge. She took a step toward her father, her white tulle train dragging across the sticky linoleum floor of the catering wing. "What did you do to my friends, Victor?"
Victor Vance tapped his mahogany cane against the floor. Clack. Clack. "Nobody was harmed, Clara. They were simply... reallocated. When you sign a marriage license without auditing the parental lineage clauses, you inadvertently grant my corporation right of first refusal over all attendee assets. Your bridesmaids’ dresses? Repossessed. The open bar tab? Transferred to Julian’s credit rating."
Julian staggered backward, his eyes widening in horror as he pulled out his smartphone. The screen flashed a relentless stream of banking alerts. Account frozen. Credit limit exceeded. Mortgage default notice.
"You hacked my accounts in thirty seconds?" Julian shouted, his voice cracking with disbelief. "That’s federal cybercrime!"
"It’s not cybercrime if you gave me power of attorney through an artisanal chocolate bar," Maya corrected, pulling a lollipop from the depths of her purple tulle pocket and unwrapping it with a loud crinkling sound. "Contract law, Julian. Pay attention. I told you, bad investments lead to corporate restructuring."
Clara stared at her father, the man she had wept over for two decades, realizing the monster she thought she knew was merely a middle manager for something much larger. "You faked your death just to pull off a hostile corporate takeover of my wedding?"
"I faked my death because the IRS was auditing my confectionery empire," Victor corrected smoothly, adjusting his frayed silk tie. "The wedding was just a convenient liquidity event. You see, Clara, a trust fund isn't just money. It’s a blood debt. And the interest rate compounds every time you fall in love."
Julian stepped forward, abandoning his fear for a blinding, white-hot fury. He grabbed Victor by the lapels of his charcoal suit, lifting him slightly off the floor despite the older man’s height. "Listen to me, you manipulative fraud. The wedding is over. The contract is void. We are walking out of these double doors right now."
May you like
Victor didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled, revealing teeth that were entirely too white. "Try opening them, boy."
Julian shoved Victor back against the metal table, spun around, and threw his weight against the heavy industrial exit doors. He threw the crash bar down with all his might. The doors didn't budge. They had been welded shut from the outside.
