Chapter 4 - The Price of the Party
The quiet that followed Daniel’s declaration was terrifying.
Elise turned slowly to look at her groom, Julian, who was standing near the altar dressed in his bespoke tuxedo. Julian was the eldest son of the Vance family—a prominent real estate dynasty that had agreed to this marriage largely because of the prestige, financial backing, and corporate alliance guaranteed by the Ashford name.
Julian’s father, a formidable man with silver hair and sharp blue eyes, stepped out of the front row of seating. He glared at my father with absolute, unadulterated coldness.
“Richard,” Julian’s father barked, his voice echoing across the lawn. “Is this true? Is your company under federal financial audit?”
My father opened his mouth, stammering incoherently. “Arthur... please... this is a domestic dispute! It’s a bitter, jealous daughter trying to ruin her sister’s reputation! The funds were internal reallocations—!”
“They were unauthorized withdrawals from a corporate trust, Mr. Ashford,” Daniel interjected calmly. “And because those funds were used to pay the vendors, caterers, florists, and venue rental for today’s event, every contract associated with this wedding is currently flagged under an emergency asset freeze.”
Elise let out a sharp, hysterical shriek. She grabbed the sides of her sweeping gown, her diamond rings cutting into the delicate lace. “No! No! You can't do this! This is my day! I spent two years planning this wedding! You are not going to ruin this for me, Clara! You jealous, ugly little bitch!”
She lunged toward the stage, her fingers curved like claws, intent on tearing the microphone straight from my hands.
Before she could take two steps, Marcus and two second security guards stepped smoothly into her path, forming an impenetrable wall of blue blazers.
“Miss Elise,” Marcus said, his voice flat and firm. “Please remain where you are.”
“Get your hands off me!” she screamed, struggling against the security line, her pristine white train tangling wildly around her ankles in the muddy grass. “Dad! Do something! Call the police! Throw her out!”
“The police are already on their way, Elise,” I said into the microphone.
My voice was so soft, so entirely devoid of malice, that it settled over the chaos like a heavy frost.
Elise stopped thrashing. She stared up at me through the security guards, her makeup beginning to run from her angry, frustrated tears.
“What did you say?” she whispered.
I gestured toward the high marble walls surrounding the fountain behind her. Positioned discreetly in the decorative stonework were four high-definition, commercial security cameras—cameras that my grandmother had installed two years prior to protect the estate’s rare art collection.
“This entire estate is equipped with 4K security surveillance,” I said, pointing up at the small glass lenses gleaming in the sunlight. “Including full audio and video coverage of the central courtyard.”
Daniel pulled a third document from the folder, holding up a sleek, black USB drive for the crowd to see.
“At 3:14 PM,” Daniel stated, “Miss Elise Ashford deliberately, and with malice, initiated physical contact with Miss Clara Ashford, causing her to fall backward into a stone fountain. The impact caused visible contusions to Miss Ashford’s right shoulder and presented a severe risk of head trauma against the marble structure.”
Daniel looked directly at my sister.
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“A formal criminal complaint for misdemeanor assault, aggravated battery, and destruction of personal property has been electronically filed with the county sheriff’s department. The deputies entered the main gate approximately two minutes ago.”
As if on cue, the low, distant wail of police sirens began to echo down the long, tree-lined driveway of the Grand Oak Estate.
