Chapter 8 - The Price of Treason
Victor snapped. Realizing his entire life was collapsing in front of the city's most powerful people, he lunged across the altar toward the ceremonial binder, trying to grab the paper trail and destroy it.
"You ruined us, you bastard!" Victor roared.
Before he could reach the table, two heavy hands slammed onto his shoulders. Marcus and two plainclothes federal fraud detectives tackled Victor to the marble floor of the altar, pulling his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Victor Vance, you are under arrest for grand larceny, corporate forgery, and wire fraud," the lead detective announced loudly, his voice reverberating through the sanctuary.
The congregation broke into absolute chaos. Reporters sprinted down the side aisles toward the exit to broadcast the story. Board members were on their phones ordering emergency freeze orders on company stock.
Celeste fell to her knees on the altar platform—the exact same posture she had forced Inés into three days ago. Her expensive lace gown was tangled around her legs, her tiara crooked in her hair. She looked up at me, tears streaming down her face, ruining her heavy makeup.
"Adrian... please," she sobbed, reaching out to clutch at the hem of my trousers. "I love you! I really do! Don't do this to me! Think of our future!"
I looked down at her with complete, unyielding detachment. The illusion was entirely shattered. I saw no beauty, no warmth, no love—only a cruel, empty shell who had viewed my life as a vessel to be drained.
"You asked me to say 'I do,' Celeste," I said, my voice soft yet razor-sharp.
I leaned down, pulled her engagement ring from her finger—a thirty-carat flawless diamond paid for with my father's money—and dropped it into the small black notebook.
May you like
"My answer is: I do convict you."
Two female police officers stepped onto the altar, lifting Celeste to her feet. As they pulled her arms behind her back, her tiara fell off, clattering against the marble floor and rolling into the dust. She screamed and cursed my name as she was led down the central aisle—the same aisle she had walked down minutes earlier as a bride—in full view of every camera in the city.
