Chapter 3 - The Secret Wire Transfer
The morning sun cast a blinding glare over the pristine white sand of the oceanfront resort. Inside the bridal suite, the air smelled of expensive lavender perfume and rising panic. Sutton paced back and forth across the imported Persian rug, her wedding gown half-zipped, her phone clutched in her manicured hand so tightly her knuckles were white.
“What do you mean, his card was declined?” Sutton shrieked at the wedding coordinator, her voice echoing through the suite. “Try it again! It's an unlimited Black Card!”
The coordinator, a pale man sweating profusely through his linen suit, tapped frantically on his tablet. “I've tried three times, Miss Vance. The bank flagged the transaction as fraudulent. Furthermore... the resort's legal department just received an emergency notice. The entire master folio has been locked down due to an active financial dispute involving unauthorized corporate transfers.”
Althia rushed into the room, her face caked in expensive powder that couldn't hide her absolute horror. “Sutton, honey, what is going on? The florist is refusing to set up the centerpieces unless we pay in cash right now! And where is Alden? He hasn't answered his phone all morning!”
Before Sutton could scream, the heavy double doors of the suite swung open. Alden stood in the doorway. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo. He wore a crisp navy suit, and his expression was as cold and lifeless as winter ice. He didn't look at Sutton. He looked directly at Althia.
“Alden!” Sutton cried out, forcing her most tragic, tearful pout. “Thank god! The bank made some stupid mistake with our wedding funds, and the rude staff is threatening to cancel the reception! Tell them who we are!”
Alden walked slowly into the center of the room. He didn't flinch. He didn't comfort her. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a thick manila folder, tossing it onto the vanity table right on top of Sutton's diamond-encrusted tiara.
“It wasn't a bank mistake, Sutton,” Alden said, his voice dangerously low. “It was a forensic audit. Last night, after I saw what you did to your sister on those stairs... after I heard you laughing while her leg snapped... I decided to look a little closer at our wedding budget.”
Sutton's breath hitched. Color drained completely from her face. “What... what are you talking about? Alden, you're scaring me! That bitch Fallon poisoned your mind!”
“Fallon was in a hospital bed undergoing emergency surgery for a shattered tibia because of you,” Alden fired back, his voice rising, cutting through the room like a whip. “And while she was being prepped for surgery, my forensic accountant uncovered sixty thousand dollars in unauthorized wire transfers originating from my private accounts—transfers that were funneled through Fallon's corporate portal without her knowledge.”
Althia gasped, clutching her pearls. “Alden, you cannot accuse your future wife of theft over a silly family dispute! We are the Vances! Our reputation—”
“Your reputation is built on fraud and cruelty,” Alden interrupted coldly. “And it's over.”
He turned his gaze back to Sutton, who was now trembling violently, her angelic bride facade crumbling into ugly panic. “The wedding is canceled. The caterers have been dismissed. And as for the resort... check your phone, Sutton.”
Sutton's phone buzzed violently in her hand. She stared down at the screen, her eyes widening in sheer terror as a legal notification popped up.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, this is impossible.”
“It's entirely possible,” a cool, authoritative voice spoke from the doorway.
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Vesper stepped into the room, leaning slightly on a sleek cane, followed by two uniformed local police officers and a man wearing a crisp sheriff's badge. Behind them, seated comfortably in a motorized medical wheelchair, I rolled into the suite. My right leg was encased in a heavy black brace, my expression calm, collected, and utterly immovable.
“Good morning, family,” I said, my voice carrying effortlessly across the silent room. “Did you miss me?”
