Chapter 5 - The Stolen Transaction
The numbers on the page didn't just represent money; they represented years of sleepless nights, frozen-pizza dinners, meticulous blueprint analysis, and every ounce of professional reputation I had painstakingly built since graduating at the top of my class.
My father had quietly transferred control of my business sub-accounts into an umbrella holding LLC controlled by Sutton three months ago, claiming it was for ""tax optimization."" In reality, they had been treating my hard-earned consulting revenue as an open ATM to fund custom floral arrangements, designer bridesmaids' gowns, and a five-tier Belgian chocolate fountain for a wedding destined to collapse under the weight of its own narcissism.
“They planned to announce today at the reception that I had voluntarily ‘gifted’ my entire upcoming contract to Sutton as a wedding present,” I whispered, the realization hitting me like physical shrapnel. “If I refused, Althia would have publicly shamed me in front of all their corporate associates, claiming I was a bitter, jealous cripple trying to sabotage her special day.”
Vesper walked over to the tray, her manicured finger tracing the transaction ID at the bottom of the statement.
“Classic financial abuse,” Vesper said crisply. “And entirely illegal. This crosses the line from family toxicity straight into corporate fraud and identity theft.” She looked up at Alden. “Mr. Vance, are you willing to sign an affidavit attesting to what you witnessed on the staircase last night?”
Alden didn't hesitate for a single second. “I’ll sign anything you want. I’m not marrying her. I called off the engagement at 2:00 AM. Her father offered to buy me a luxury sports car if I kept quiet and went through with the ceremony anyway, but I’m done. I want out.”
“Good,” Vesper said, pulling a sleek tablet from her leather briefcase. “Because we aren’t just going to crash this wedding. We’re going to dismantle their entire social and financial empire before the cake is even cut.”
She turned to me, her eyes flashing with a brilliant, calculating light.
“Fallon, are you ready to roll?”
May you like
I looked down at the heavy fiberglass cast encasing my leg, then over at the titanium wheelchair waiting by the door. The pain in my knee was a dull, persistent throb, but beneath it, a cold, sharp fire had ignited in my chest.
“Get the medical transport van warmed up, Vesper,” I said, a slow, predatory smile touching the corners of my mouth. “We have a wedding to attend.”
