Chapter 7 - The Tables Have Turned
By late afternoon, the Grand Azure pavilion looked less like a wedding venue and more like a crime scene.
The resort management, realizing their accounts were linked to fraudulent wire transfers, had frozen all wedding services and demanded the immediate evacuation of the bridal party. The string quartet had packed up their instruments and left hours ago.
My parents sat slumped at a small outdoor patio table near the cliffside, surrounded by three federal marshals waiting for transport to the county holding facility pending formal arraignment. Their expensive luggage sat piled in the dirt beside them, looking pathetic and oversized.
I rolled my wheelchair out onto the patio, the cool ocean breeze catching my hair. Vesper stood quietly a few feet behind me, holding a secure clipboard.
Althia looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, her face aged ten years in a single afternoon.
""Fallon,"" my mother whispered, her voice cracking with a pathetic attempt at maternal manipulation. ""Please. We're your family. You can't let them do this to us. Drop the charges. Tell them it was a misunderstanding... a family accounting error.""
I looked down at her—at the woman who had stood over me while my leg was broken, telling me to stop being dramatic because rich people were watching.
""You told me to stop being dramatic when my bone shattered,"" I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of emotion. ""You told me to apologize to the person who pushed me down the stairs. You stole my life's savings to pay for a party built on humiliation.""
""We raised you!"" Stellin barked defensively, though his voice lacked any real power.
""You tolerated me as long as I was useful and quiet,"" I corrected him. ""Well, I'm neither quiet nor useful to you anymore.""
A pair of local police cruisers pulled up to the resort entrance, their blue lights flashing silently against the bright afternoon sun. The marshals stepped forward, gently but firmly lifting my parents to their feet.
As they were led away toward the squad cars, Sutton sat alone at the head table inside the empty pavilion, staring blankly at her phone screen as her social media comments flooded with cancellation notices and furious messages from angry vendors demanding payment.
Alden walked out onto the patio, holding a pair of heavy legal folders. He stopped beside my wheelchair, looking out over the ocean.
""I'm moving my headquarters back to Seattle next week,"" Alden said quietly. ""My father's firm is filing the final annulment papers tomorrow morning. I don't suppose... well, I know it's too soon, and you have enough chaos in your life right now, but...""
May you like
I turned my head to look at him, a faint, genuine smile touching my lips. ""Alden, you were a great witness, and your timing on the annulment was impeccable. But right now, I have an engineering firm to rebuild, eight months of physical therapy ahead of me, and a very long list of corporate contracts to sign.""
Alden smiled, a tired, genuine expression that suited him much better than a groom's tuxedo ever had. ""I understand. But if you ever need someone to hold your crutches—or carry your legal binder—you know my number.""
