Chapter 3 - The Broken Engagement Robe
By midnight, I was lying in the master bedroom of Adrian’s private penthouse overlooking the dark water of Lake Michigan.
The room was warm, filled with the quiet crackle of the gas fireplace and the scent of fresh eucalyptus. A team of two private nurses hired by Adrian had treated my injuries, given me non-narcotic pain management, and checked my vision three times to ensure the orbital hairline fracture wouldn't affect my eyesight.
Adrian sat on the edge of the large bed, dressed in a plain black sweater, holding a ice pack wrapped in a soft silk cloth against my swollen face.
"You should be resting," I murmured, staring at his tired, dark eyes.
"I’m not sleeping tonight, Evelyn," Adrian said softly. "Not until I know every piece of this trap is set."
He reached to the nightstand and picked up a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside it was the torn, blood-stained silk engagement robe that Chloe had worn during the assault.
"Your cousin Nathan brought this to Marcus an hour ago," Adrian said. "Your sister dropped it on the floor when the police knocked on the front door. She was trying to hide in the wine cellar."
"Where is she now?"
"In a county holding cell beside your mother," Adrian said without a shred of pity. "Your father is in the medical wing of the precinct because his blood pressure spiked to dangerous levels during his booking."
I let out a long, slow breath, feeling the sharp pull of the stitches on my cheek.
"They thought they could just swap us," I said, looking up at the high timber ceilings. "They really believed you wouldn't notice the difference between two women, as long as one was younger and wearing my dress."
Adrian’s eyes darkened, a hard, muscular flex appearing along his jaw.
"Your father called my office six months ago, Evelyn," Adrian revealed quietly. "He offered to transfer fifteen percent of Mercer Holdings to my personal trust if I agreed to sign a prenuptial agreement that redirected your grandmother's estate revenue to his personal accounts."
I stared at him in shock. "He did what?"
"I refused, of course," Adrian continued, his fingers gently smoothing my hair. "I told him that if he ever brought up your grandmother's estate again, I would cancel all Vale Logistics shipping contracts with Mercer Manufacturing. I thought that would threaten his pocketbook enough to keep him in line."
"He didn't care about the contracts," I realized, the cold truth settling into my chest. "He knew that if I married you without his interference, Grandmother's clause would activate automatically. He’d lose controlling interest in Mercer Holdings the second I signed the marriage license."
"Exactly," Adrian said. "He hit you because he needed the wedding delayed or canceled. If you were hospitalized, or if I broke off the engagement out of horror, the three-year window on your grandmother's trust would expire next month. The estate would have defaulted directly to Harold."
The sheer, sickening calculation of it made my stomach turn.
They hadn't just acted out of blind preference for Chloe. It was a cold, calculated financial execution. They were willing to shatter my face, destroy my reputation, and lock me away just to keep their hands on seventy million dollars of commercial real estate.
A knock sounded at the bedroom door. Marcus Sterling stepped in, carrying a thick leather briefcase.
"Pardon the interruption, Mr. Vale, Mrs. Vale," Marcus said, bowing his head slightly. "The grand jury has been convened for an emergency indictment tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM."
"What are the charges, Marcus?" I asked.
"For your father: First-degree felony assault with a deadly weapon, conspiracy, and attempted trust fraud," Marcus replied, opening the folder. "For your mother: Accomplice to felony assault, destruction of evidence, and witness tampering. For Chloe: Accessory after the fact and obstruction of justice."
"Can they make bail?" I asked.
Marcus offered a sharp, dangerous smile that reminded me why Adrian paid him three thousand dollars an hour.
"Your father’s bail is set at five million dollars," Marcus said. "However, since all Mercer Holdings accounts were frozen three hours ago under the terms of your grandmother’s non-interference clause, they have precisely four hundred dollars in liquid cash available. They can't pay a bondsman."
"What about their legal representation?"
"Public defenders," Marcus said flatly. "Every corporate law firm in the city has already refused to take their case after receiving a quiet phone call from Mr. Vale’s office."
Adrian stood up slowly, stepping toward the high glass windows that looked out over the black, rain-swept lake.
"We have three days until our wedding date, Evelyn," Adrian said, turning back to look at me. "The venue is booked. The guests are arriving from Europe and New York. The media is waiting outside the gates."
"We can't have a wedding with me looking like this, Adrian," I whispered, touching the bandage over my eye. "The press will turn it into a circus."
May you like
Adrian walked back to the bed, bent down, and kissed the tip of my nose with unbelievable tenderness.
"We aren't canceling anything, Evelyn," Adrian said softly. "We’re going to give your family the exact wedding they paid for. Only they’ll be watching it from a high-definition television in the county jail."
