Chapter 3 - Blood Money and Broken Glass
The ballroom descended into utter chaos. Guests began whispering behind silk napkins, some even pulling out their smartphones to record the spectacle. High society thrives on scandal, but this was more than gossip; this was an execution in broad daylight.
Vanessa looked as though she had been struck across the face. Her ivory skin turned a sickening shade of gray. ""No... no, this is forged. Adrian! Tell your mother she's making it up! Who even is Maya Vance? You told me her family went bankrupt when her father died!""
Adrian stepped forward, his eyes red and brimming with shame. ""Maya’s family didn't go bankrupt, Vanessa. My father... my father borrowed seventy million dollars from the Vance Trust during the 2008 crash. He never paid it back. When Maya’s father died, Maya was eighteen. She walked away from society because she didn't want the filth and the parasites.""
""And yet you let her pay for our wedding?!"" Vanessa shrieked, her voice cracking.
""She didn't pay for our wedding to be generous, Vanessa,"" Adrian whispered, the realization finally hitting him like an oncoming freight train. He looked at me, his chest heaving with dread. ""She paid it... so she would own the venue. She paid it so she would have the right to be here.""
""Not just the right to be here, Adrian,"" I remarked coolly, sliding the paper back into the envelope. ""When you accept corporate sponsorship for an event under New York commercial lease code, the primary guarantor reserves unilateral eviction privileges over all private gatherings on the premises in the event of public disorder.""
Vanessa took an involuntary step back, her train tangling behind her. ""You can't kick me out of my own wedding! That's absurd! I'm the bride!""
""You called me scum,"" I reminded her, each syllable falling like cold lead. ""You told two hundred and eighty people that I had brought dirt into your pristine world. You mocked my dress, you mocked my presence, and you threatened to have me dragged through the streets like a stray dog. All while breathing the air paid for by my family’s money.""
Behind us, the double mahogany doors of the ballroom swung open with a resounding thud.
A tall man in a tailored charcoal suit walked in, flanked by three uniformed city officers and two men carrying briefcases. It was Julian Cross, the most feared corporate litigation attorney in Manhattan—and my personal legal counsel.
""Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,"" Julian said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey as he adjusted his glasses. ""I apologize for interrupting the festivities. However, under Section 14 of the Private Gathering Indemnity Contract signed by Mr. Adrian Vale, this event has been terminated effective five minutes ago due to gross misconduct and breach of safety standards.""
The music cut out completely. Even the catering staff froze with silver trays suspended mid-air.
May you like
Vanessa’s father, Richard Vale, finally stumbled out of the shadows from table four, his tuxedo disheveled, smelling faintly of bourbon. ""What the hell is the meaning of this? Julian Cross? What are you doing in my daughter’s reception?""
""Saving your family from an immediate grand jury indictment, Richard,"" Julian replied without even looking at him. ""Though, looking at the room... it might be a few minutes too late.""
