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...

Saturday afternoon arrived under a cloudless, brilliant blue sky. The venue was St. Bartholomew’s Cathedral—the most prestigious cathedral in the city, reserved exclusively for old-money dynasties and political royalty.

Outside, dozens of news vans were parked along the curb. Photographers snapped pictures of elite guests arriving in black town cars: senators, corporate titans, foreign investors, and high-society icons. Over four hundred people packed the grand sanctuary, their hushed chatter echoing beneath the soaring stone arches and stained-glass windows.

In the groom’s dressing room, I stood before a full-length mirror, adjusting the ivory rose boutonnière on my tuxedo lapel. Marcus stood behind me, closing a sleek black leather briefcase.

"The cathedral’s audiovisual team has been replaced by my private contractors," Marcus reported in a quiet, precise voice. "The projection system, the digital monitors in the sanctuary, and the live media feed going to the press tent outside are all hooked directly to our encrypted drive."

"And the police?" I asked, looking at my reflection. My face was entirely calm—the face of a man about to perform an execution.

"Two fraud squad detectives are standing by in the rear vestibule," Marcus said. "They have the warrants signed by the District Attorney based on the March 14th forgery documents."

A knock came at the door. Victor stepped inside, wearing a dark tuxedo, holding a small leather binder under his arm. He looked flushed, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead despite the air conditioning.

"Ten minutes, Adrian," Victor said, trying to maintain his arrogant demeanor, though his eyes darted nervously to Marcus’s briefcase. "Everything is set. The officiant is ready. The pre-nuptial merger documents are right here in the binder."

"Thanks, Victor," I said, walking over and clapping him on the shoulder. "You’ve been very thorough throughout this entire process."

Victor forced a laugh. "Just looking out for family, brother."

"Family," I repeated, letting the word hang in the air like a sentence. "Let's go."

As I walked out into the grand aisle of the sanctuary, the organ music began to play. I took my place at the altar beside the bishop. I looked out over the sea of wealthy faces. In the third row, sitting quietly among billionaires who ignored her, was Inés. She was wearing a neat, dark-blue dress I had bought for her, holding her small black notebook tightly in her lap.