Chapter 5 - Confrontation at the Altar
The officiant, a stern man who had been waiting at the front altar, slowly folded his ceremonial book and tucked it into his jacket. The wedding was officially dead, but the drama was far from over.
"Get up, Tiffany," Mark said, throwing the wet photo onto the marble floor at her feet. "The wedding is canceled. Clear your things out of my house by tonight."
"You can't do this to me!" Tiffany screamed, throwing off all pretenses of innocence. She stood up, despite her twisted ankle, her white gown stained with mud and crushed orchid leaves. "We signed the vendor contracts! Your family paid for everything! If you call this off now, you'll be the laughingstock of the city!"
"I'd rather be a bachelor who lost a deposit than a fool who married a thief," Mark replied firmly.
Suddenly, a side door popped open, and Nick—the personal trainer himself, who had been hired as part of the 'security team' for the high-end event—stepped into the room, looking bewildered. "Hey, what's going on out here? Tiff, why are you screaming?"
The room went dead quiet again. Mark turned to look at Nick, then back at Tiffany. A bitter laugh escaped Mark’s lips. "Ah, the king himself. Thanks for coming, Nick. You can take your queen home now. Though I suggest you check her shoes first."
May you like
Nick looked confused, but as he saw the photo on the floor and the eyes of two hundred wealthy guests glaring at him, his face flushed crimson. He backed toward the door. "Look, man, I don't want any trouble..."
"Then take her and get out," Mark spat.
