My sister pushed me down a marble staircase at her luxury wedding rehearsal—and laughed when my leg snapped.

“What... what did you just say?” Sutton’s voice broke into a high, jagged whisper. She took a step down from the bridal podium, her expensive veil catching on the floral display and ripping with a quiet tearing sound. “Alden, stop playing games. The guests are downstairs! The Montgomery family friends flew in from Manhattan! Senator Hayes is down in the lounge right now!”

Jonathan Montgomery stepped forward, his silver hair catching the morning light, his posture radiating the cold power of a man who owned container ships across three oceans.

“Senator Hayes is having breakfast with my private security team in the lobby, Miss Vance,” Jonathan said, his tone biting. “And our family friends have already checked out of their suites. We chartered three aircraft to take them home two hours ago. My son is not marrying a sociopath. And my family will not be tied to an enterprise of common thieves.”

“Thieves?” Stellin sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of mottled purple. “Jonathan! We are partners in this! We had an agreement!”

“We had an agreement that you were an honorable family of means,” Jonathan replied, looking at Stellin with the disgust one reserves for a roach on a kitchen counter. “You are broke. You defaulted on two commercial mortgages in Illinois last month. And your wife just forged a corporate draft to steal from her own injured daughter because you couldn't pay for cocktail shrimp.”

Jonathan turned to Claire Moreau. “Miss Moreau, as a minority shareholder in Monarch Bay Holdings, I authorize the immediate closure of all ballroom facilities reserved under the Vance name. Clear the premises.”

“Wait!” Sutton screamed, tears finally breaking through her heavy makeup, turning black mascara into grotesque streaks down her cheeks. She dropped to her knees on the marble floor, crawling toward Alden, the nine-thousand-dollar French lace dragging across the wet champagne stains. “Alden, please! Look at me! I love you! It was just a joke! I didn't mean to hurt Fallon! I was just stressed! The wedding was so stressful! Fallon, tell him! Tell him I’m your sister!”

I pressed the joystick on my wheelchair, gliding forward until my footrest was inches from where she knelt in the filth.

“Thirty-four years, Sutton,” I said, my voice steady, clear, and utterly devoid of pity. “When I was twelve and won the regional science fair, you threw my project into the pool because you didn't win your pageant, and Mom made me apologize to you for making you cry. When I graduated summa cum laude from Georgia Tech, you faked an appendicitis scare so Dad would leave my commencement ceremony early.”

“That was years ago!” Sutton shrieked, clutching her lace skirt.

“Eight weeks ago, I almost died when a hydraulic crane failed during a hangar inspection,” I continued, leaning down slightly. “I spent three weeks in traction with titanium pins holding my bone together. You knew that. You looked me in the eye yesterday morning and told me my brace ruined your aesthetic. And then you deliberately tripped me and shoved me down sixteen stone steps for a thirty-second social media video.”

“It was just content!” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

“No,” I said. “It was a felony.”

Vesper stepped forward and opened a leather folder, handing a sheaf of crisp documents to Deputy Miller.

“Deputy, this is the forensic surveillance package,” Vesper announced. “It includes the uncut 4K video provided by the groom, the audio recording of Sutton Vance explicitly stating her intent to cause grievous bodily harm to remove Fallon from the photographs, the hospital trauma report detailing the shattered tibia and destroyed ligament graft, and the bank records documenting Althia Vance’s unauthorized access to the corporate credit line.”

Deputy Miller glanced through the papers, his jaw hardening. He looked over at his partner.

“Althia Vance. Sutton Vance. Please stand up and place your hands behind your backs.”

“No!” Althia screamed, thrashing against the sofa cushions. “Stellin, do something! Call our lawyers! You can't arrest the mother of the bride on her daughter's wedding day!”

“There is no wedding day, ma'am,” Deputy Miller said, stepping behind the sofa and pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his utility belt. “And right now, you're looking at grand larceny, identity theft, and criminal wire fraud.”

*Click-click.*

The cold steel clamped around Althia’s manicured wrists. She let out a guttural howl that sounded more like a wounded animal than a high-society matriarch.

Deputy Davis walked over to Sutton, who was still crumpled on the floor in her ruined white lace.

“Miss Vance. On your feet. Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

“Alden!” Sutton wailed, looking up at him with wild, frantic eyes. “Alden, save me! Tell them you forgive me! We can still do the ceremony! We don't need the ballroom, we can do it on the beach!”

Alden looked down at her one last time.

“I heard what you said behind the floral arch, Sutton,” Alden said quietly. “You said she was pathetic. You said who cares if her leg snaps. I don't know who you are, but I know what you are. And I wouldn't marry you if you were the last woman breathing on this earth.”