I came home early with roses and found Celeste pouring wine across the floor while Inés scrubbed on her knees. “Do it again—that’s what we pay you for,” my fiancée sneered. I said nothing. I spoke to every employee alone, and Inés handed me a tiny black notebook. At the altar, when Celeste whispered, “Say I do,” I opened it—and gave her the answer she never expected...

The St. Regis ballroom was decorated with thousands of white orchids, crystal chandeliers, and cascading velvet drapery. The rehearsal dinner on Thursday night was a gathering of the city's elite—politicians, hedge fund titans, and high-society influencers, all sipping hundred-dollar champagne and admiring the stunning couple at the head table.

Celeste looked breathtaking in a white lace cocktail dress, her diamond engagement ring catching the light every time she gestured. Victor sat beside her, immaculate in a bespoke tuxedo, holding court with three of my primary investors.

"To the perfect match," Victor announced, raising his glass high as the room quieted down. "To my sister, who found her equal, and to Adrian, who finally realized he couldn't run Hale Enterprises without a strong woman by his side!"

The room applauded politely. Celeste leaned into my side, resting her head on my shoulder. "Isn't he sweet?" she whispered.

"Remarkable," I replied, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Your brother always knows how to leverage an opportunity."

She didn't catch the double meaning. She was too intoxicated by the proximity of absolute wealth.

Later that evening, while Celeste was caught up in a conversation with the mayor's wife, I walked out onto the terrace. Victor followed me out, lighting a cigar as the cool night air hit us.

"Great turnout, Adrian," Victor said, blowing a plume of blue smoke into the darkness. "The press is going to go wild on Saturday. You know, once the paperwork is signed, I was thinking I should take over the international logistics division at Hale. Give you more time to relax."

"I was looking over the recent logistical expenses today, Victor," I said casually, leaning against the stone balustrade. "Specifically a series of wire transfers to a vendor called Vela Events. Do you know them?"

Victor’s hand froze mid-air for a fraction of a second. The ash from his cigar fell onto his polished leather shoes. He recovered quickly, laughing smoothly. "Vela? Oh yeah, that’s the boutique catering firm Celeste used for the engagement party in Aspen. Standard stuff, Adrian. Why?"

"Just balancing the books," I said, turning my head to look him straight in the eyes. "I noticed the signatures on the authorization forms looked a little rushed. Almost like someone signed them in a hurry while I was out of state."

The air between us grew instantly hostile. Victor stopped smiling. He took a slow drag from his cigar, his eyes narrowing as he evaluated me. For months, he had treated me like a soft-hearted pushover—a grieving rich boy who could be easily manipulated.

"Signatures get messy when deadlines are tight, Adrian," Victor said softly, his voice dropping into a subtle threat. "You shouldn't stress yourself over minor bookkeeping three days before your wedding. Celeste gets anxious when you get obsessed with work."