Chapter 3
The heavy hand gripping Clara’s wrist belonged to Marcus Vance, the elderly senior partner of the firm and Julian's estranged uncle, who had remained hidden in the dim shadows near the exit until that exact moment. Marcus’s face was a map of deep wrinkles and profound disappointment, his silver hair catching the amber glow of the wall sconces as he stepped fully into the harsh light of the chandelier.
"That's enough, Clara," Marcus said, his voice deep, gravelly, and carrying the absolute authority of a man who controlled billions. "The charade is officially over. Sit down before I have security escort both of you out in handcuffs."
Julian froze mid-step, his face draining of whatever color the blood loss hadn't already stolen. "Uncle Marcus... what are you doing here? You RSVP'd that you weren't coming to the ceremony."
"I never miss a hostile corporate execution, nephew," Marcus replied coldly, releasing Clara’s wrist with a dismissive flick. He walked past the stunned newlyweds and extended a steady, weathered hand down to Elena, helping her gracefully to her feet. "Are you alright, Dr. Vance?"
"I'll live, Uncle Marcus," Elena said, taking his arm and brushing the dust off her maroon dress. "Though the floor of the Grandview Ballroom leaves much to be desired."
Clara forced a brittle, trembling smile onto her lips, her eyes darting frantically toward the ballroom exit doors where she knew her private security team was stationed. "Marcus, you're listening to a bitter ex-employee who was fired for embezzlement. She's fabricating everything because Julian chose me!"
"Fired for embezzlement?" Marcus let out a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Elena is a forensic accountant, Clara. She was hired by the board six months ago specifically to audit Julian's department. And she found every single penny you two stole to fund this pathetic circus."
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The guests gasped collectively, cell phones instantly snapping photos of the bride and groom looking trapped like cornered rats. Julian took a desperate step toward Marcus, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Uncle, let's talk about this in private. We can handle the restructuring internally, without ruining the family name."
"The family name was ruined the moment you signed your name to those offshore wire transfers," Marcus said, pulling a heavy manila envelope from his overcoat and tossing it onto the tiered wedding cake. "And that's not even the worst of it. The federal investigators are already in the lobby."
