Chapter 6 - The Price of Truth
The confession hung toxic in the air.
Nobody moved. Even the society photographers had lowered their cameras, stunned into silence by the sheer venom in her tone.
“There it is,” Grant said quietly. He slipped the platinum wedding band off his finger and let it drop. It landed on the floor with a clean, metallic *clink*, rolling until it hit the toe of Juliette’s bridal shoe. “The wedding is off.”
“Grant, no!” Juliette lunged forward, grabbing his arm, her manicured nails digging through the fabric of his sleeve. “You can’t do this! The contracts are signed! Sterling Logistics needs the Mercer capital merger, or your expansion fails! You need me!”
“I’d rather go bankrupt than spend a single night sleeping beside a murderer,” Grant said, peeling her fingers off him with absolute disgust. He turned on his heel and walked down the altar steps, not looking back once.
“Grant! GRANT!” Juliette screamed, her voice echoing off the stained glass windows.
She turned back to the room, but the room had already abandoned her. Guests were standing up, grabbing their coats, whispering in horrified tones as they hurried toward the exits. The grand social event of the season had turned into an open-air crime scene.
Marcus Vance stepped up to the podium, tapping the microphone. The sharp feedback squeal silenced the fleeing crowd.
“Nobody leaves through the main lobby,” Marcus announced calmly. “State Police and the FBI Financial Crimes Unit have blocked the exits. Anyone attempting to destroy documents or tamper with Mercer assets will be treated as an accomplice.”
Uncle Richard scrambled to his feet, darting toward the side service door. But before he could reach the brass handle, two uniformed state troopers pushed the heavy doors open, their hands resting firmly on their utility belts.
May you like
“Richard Mercer?” one trooper asked.
Richard raised his hands, his face pale as chalk. “I want my lawyer.”
