Chapter 5 - The Wedding Day Dawn
The morning sun broke over the Pacific coastline, casting brilliant golden rays across the sprawling lawns of the oceanfront resort. It was supposed to be the most magical day of Sutton’s life—a breathtaking, multi-million-dollar spectacle broadcasted live to thousands of social media followers and featured in high-society bridal magazines.
Instead, an oppressive, suffocating tension hung over the bridal suite like a toxic fog.
Inside the opulent dressing room, hair stylists and makeup artists moved in shell-shocked silence, whispering among themselves while avoiding eye contact with the bride. Sutton sat before the massive gilded vanity mirror, her jaw clenched so tightly her teeth ached. Her designer silk robe was flawless, but her face was mottled with blotchy patches of fury and panic.
“What do you mean, he’s not answering his phone?” Sutton shrieked, whirling around to face our mother, Althia.
Althia wrung her manicured hands together, pacing across the plush Persian rug. Her expensive evening gown from the night before was still wrinkled, and dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes.
“I knocked on Alden’s penthouse suite five times, Sutton,” Althia said nervously, her voice trembling. “His valet said his luggage was packed hours ago. His groomsmen haven't seen him since last night after the rehearsal.”
“That’s impossible!” Sutton slammed her fist against the vanity table, rattling crystal perfume bottles. “He’s just sulking because Fallon threw a dramatic temper tantrums on the stairs! Tell him the ceremony starts in three hours! If he humiliates me in front of Vogue and the entire guest list, I’ll never speak to him again!”
“Sutton, darling, try to calm down,” our father, Stellin, chimed in, walking into the suite with a stiff drink in his hand. But Stellin’s face was equally ashen. “We have a bigger problem. The resort manager just cornered me in the lobby.”
Sutton scoffed, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “What could the manager possibly want? We pre-paid everything months ago!”
“Not exactly,” Stellin swallowed hard, staring down at his polished shoes. “The resort’s accounting department locked out our master ballroom folio an hour ago. They claim the primary wire transfer—the eighty-five thousand dollars processed through Fallon’s corporate account yesterday—was flagged as unauthorized fraudulent activity by the bank’s fraud division.”
Sutton froze. Her vibrant blue eyes widened in sudden, sharp panic. “Fraud division? That’s impossible! Fallon gave me her corporate login weeks ago to cover emergency catering deposits!”
“Well, Fallon’s attorneys apparently disagree,” Stellin said grimly. “And that’s not all. The catering trucks haven't arrived. The floral designer just pulled her vans out of the service bay, claiming their deposit checks bounced. Half the high-society guests are calling the front desk asking if the wedding is canceled.”
Sutton stood up so fast her stool crashed backward onto the floor. “Call Fallon! Tell her to drop whatever fake hospital drama she’s pulling, call her bank, and clear those wire transfers immediately!”
Althia frantically pulled out her smartphone, dialing my number on speakerphone so the entire room could hear.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
Then, a crisp, professional electronic voice answered:
“You have reached the corporate legal offices of Thorne & Vesper Associates. You are calling a secured line monitored by federal investigators and legal counsel. Please state your name and badge or case reference number after the tone.”
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Althia gasped in horror, instantly dropping her phone onto the carpet as if it were a venomous snake.
Sutton stared at the device lying on the floor, her face draining of every last trace of color. The reality of what she had unleashed began to crash down around her like an avalanche. Her grand wedding wasn't just delayed; it was legally dismantled, block by financial block, before she even had a chance to walk down the aisle.
