Chapter 3 - Gathering the Allies
I didn't follow her out immediately. Instead, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I should have trusted above all others over the past year.
It rang twice before a raspy, sleep-deprived voice answered. “Daniel? If this is about the seating chart for the head table, I swear to God—”
“Sarah,” I interrupted, my voice urgent. “Is Emily with you?”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Daniel? Where are you? You’re supposed to be walking down the aisle right now!”
“Answer me, Sarah. Is Emily there?”
“Yes,” Sarah whispered, the anger instantly vanishing from her voice, replaced by raw panic. “She’s here. She drove over around dawn, shaking so hard she could barely hold the steering wheel. She wouldn't let me call an ambulance, Daniel, but she’s... God, she hit her head hard last night. She’s sleeping now, but she’s ice cold and she has a massive bruise on her temple. What is going on? Did Rebecca...?”
“Rebecca is out in the ballroom right now, expecting me to marry her,” I said grimly. “Listen to me very carefully, Sarah. Do not let Emily leave that house. Lock the doors. I’m sending my head of security, Marcus, to your location with a copy of a flash drive containing everything Rebecca has done. I need you to keep Emily safe while I handle things here.”
“Handle things? Daniel, are you crazy? Call the police!”
“The police will need warrants, and jurisdiction over white-collar theft takes time,” I replied, walking over to the window that overlooked the sprawling gardens of the grand hotel. “By the time the authorities sort through the shell companies, Rebecca could liquidate the primary liquidity accounts. No, Sarah. We’re going to trap her legally and publicly. But I need your help to do it.”
“Name it,” Sarah said without hesitation.
“Get Emily to a hospital as soon as Marcus arrives. Have them document the concussion and file a formal assault report. Meanwhile, I’m going to walk out into that ballroom—and I’m going to turn the tables in a way Rebecca will never see coming.”
Before Sarah could reply, I hung up.
I turned on my heel and walked out of the preparation room, bypassing the side exit and striding purposefully down the corridor toward the grand ballroom doors. As I approached, the wedding coordinator—a frantic woman named Evelyn clutching a clipboard like a shield—intercepted me.
“Mr. Vance! Thank goodness! Where have you been? The guests are seated, the music is playing, and the bride is waiting at the altar!”
I looked down at Evelyn, offering her a calm, reassuring smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.
“Evelyn,” I said smoothly, “we’re going to make a few small adjustments to the ceremony. Nothing drastic. But before we open these doors, I need you to do me a very important favor.”
Evelyn blinked, adjusting her glasses. “A favor? Mr. Vance, the program is locked in. What kind of adjustment?”
I leaned in and whispered my instructions into her ear. As my words registered, the color drained from Evelyn's face, her eyes widening in sheer disbelief.
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“Mr. Vance... are you... are you certain about this?” she stammered.
“Never more certain in my life,” I said, patting her shoulder gently. “Open the doors, Evelyn. Let’s give our guests a wedding they will never, ever forget.”
