Chapter 8 - The Downfall
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder with every passing second. Red and blue emergency lights began to flash through the high stained-glass windows, painting the sanctuary in rhythmic pulses of crimson and sapphire.
Arthur Mercer pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes red and swollen. He looked at Juliette, then at me, torn between a lifetime of shame and a sudden, crushing grief.
“Juliette... tell me you didn’t try to kill your sister,” Arthur begged, his voice barely a rasp. “Tell me there’s an explanation. Anything. Please.”
Juliette didn’t even look at him. She stared at the doors as federal agents in dark suits entered the ballroom, led by a female prosecutor carrying a federal warrant.
“Juliette Mercer,” the prosecutor announced, her heels clicking authoritatively across the marble. “You are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, wire fraud, identity theft, and grand larceny. You have the right to remain silent.”
Two agents ascended the altar steps. Cold steel handcuffs clicked around Juliette’s slender wrists, pinning her hands behind the silk corset of her wedding gown.
As they turned her toward the aisle, she caught my eye.
“You won’t last a month, Caroline,” she spat, her teeth bared like a wild animal’s. “You don’t have what it takes to run this empire. The board will tear you apart! You should have stayed in that fire!”
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“I didn't stay in the fire, Juliette,” I said, wrapping the emerald necklace firmly around my wrist like a shield. “I brought it with me.”
They marched her down the long white carpet. Every remaining guest stepped back, clearing a wide path of shame as the disgraced bride was led out into the blinding glare of police cruisers and flashing cameras waiting on the street outside.
