Chapter 6 - The Grand Cathedral
The twenty-third of October arrived under a canopy of cloudless California blue.
Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill was packed with four hundred of Silicon Valley’s most influential figures: venture capitalists, university chancellors, tech executives, and high-society patrons.
The aisle was lined with hundreds of white calla lilies and glowing pillars of beeswax candles.
At the front of the altar stood Tristan Davis, looking breathtakingly handsome in a custom charcoal tuxedo from Savile Row, his blond hair styled to perfection, his hands clasped before him with the posture of a conquering king.
Beside him in the front pew sat Tessa Jenkins, wearing a tasteful lavender silk dress, gazing up at him with an expression of quiet triumph.
She believed that in less than thirty minutes, her lover would secure the voting proxy that would make her uncle’s company the supreme master of oncology biotech.
In the bridal antechamber at the back of the cathedral, I stood before a full-length gilded mirror.
My wedding gown was a masterwork of structured ivory satin, but beneath the silk train, my spine was as rigid as titanium.
Adrian stood behind me, adjusting the lapels of his black tuxedo.
"The federal court order came through twenty minutes ago, Zoe," Adrian said in a low, quiet voice. "Judge Alpert signed the emergency injunction. Federal marshals are stationed in the narthex, and the SEC enforcement division has already frozen the Chiron escrow accounts."
I looked at my brother through the glass. "Did the press arrive?"
"Every major tech journalist from the Wall Street Journal, Bloomberg, and TechCrunch is sitting in the center pews," Adrian smiled grimly. "Tristan’s public relations team invited them to cover the 'Tech Wedding of the Decade.' They’re about to get the story of their lives."
I reached onto the vanity table, picking up my bouquet of dark calla lilies.
Tucked neatly inside the satin ribbon binding the stems was a small, high-density flash drive containing five gigabytes of encrypted forensic evidence.
"Are you ready, Dr. Hastings?" Adrian asked, offering me his arm.
May you like
I turned around, met my brother’s fierce, unwavering gaze, and smiled.
"I’ve been ready for seven years, Adrian," I said. "Let's go show Tristan Davis what happens when you underestimate the scientist who built your world."
