Chapter 8 - The Aftermath of Treachery
The metallic click of handcuffs echoed clearly over the quieted room.
Adrian lay pinned to the marble floor, his cheek pressed against the spilled water and crushed lilies. The suit he had chosen for our wedding was soaked, ruined, and covered in filth. He looked up at me through strands of disheveled hair, tears of panic and fury leaking from his eyes.
"Meredith, please!" he begged, spitting out water. "Don't do this! We can fix this! The money... the money is in an offshore account in the Caymans! We can take it and leave! We can start over in Europe! I did it for us, Meredith! I did it so we could have a real life without debt!"
I walked over to where he lay pinned beneath the officer's knee.
I looked down at the face I had loved for five years, the lips I had kissed, the eyes I had believed held my entire future. There was no hatred left in me, only a deep, profound pity for a man so fundamentally empty that he thought love was something you could buy with stolen blood money.
"You didn't do this for us, Adrian," I said quietly, loud enough for every horrified guest in the front rows to hear. "You did this because you are a coward. You couldn't face your failures, so you chose to kill yourself on paper and bury me in the wreckage."
Colleen was escorted down the altar steps in handcuffs by another female officer. As she passed me, she refused to look up, her face buried in her chest as the flashing cameras of several guests caught her humiliation.
Arthur Vance walked up to me, his broad shoulders squared, his gaze piercing. He looked down at the arrest scene, then turned his gaze toward me.
"Young lady," Arthur said, his gruff voice carrying deep respect. "My daughter showed me the documentation on your phone before the agents entered the room. You saved my family from handing millions of dollars and our family name to a syndicate of parasites. What did you say your name was?"
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"Meredith Cole," I replied, extending my black-gloved hand. "Owner of Cole Floral Designs."
Arthur took my hand in a firm, powerful grip. "Miss Cole, the Vance Foundation will be wiring two hundred thousand dollars to your commercial account by nine o'clock tomorrow morning as an unconditional consulting and compensation retainer. Furthermore, every floral contract for every Vance hotel, corporate headquarters, and residential development in the state belongs to your business starting today."
