Chapter 5 - THE SHATTERED GLASS
Photographers who had been hired to cover the charity event suddenly swung their massive camera lenses away from the ice sculpture and pointed them directly at Richard and Cassandra. Flashes exploded in rapid succession, blinding Richard as he raised his hands to shield his face.
“Turn those off!” Richard shouted, his voice high and frantic. “Turn those cameras off right now!”
“Let them shoot, Richard,” I said, stepping closer to him so only he and Cassandra could hear my whisper. “You wanted public attention tonight. You wanted everyone to see Veil Urban’s true leadership.”
Richard looked at me, his eyes wide with a pathetic, desperate pleading. “Evelyn... please. Think of the baby. Think of our son! We can talk about this in private! I was stressed—the finance holds threw me off—I didn't mean to hit you!”
“You meant every bit of it,” I said, my voice as cold as marble. “You hit me because you thought I was small. You hit me because you thought I had no power.”
Thomas Mercer stepped between us, his massive frame blocking Richard from taking a step toward me.
“Mr. Vale,” Thomas said, his voice dropping into a register that chilled the entire stage. “My legal team has already filed for an emergency protective order, sole custody of my grandson, and a full forensic audit of your personal and corporate assets. By sunrise, your name will be stripped from every building in this city.”
Cassandra tried to slip away toward the side exit, her silk dress rustling as she edged toward the curtains.
“Ms. Moore,” Detective Miller’s voice called out from the edge of the stage.
Two uniformed police officers stepped into her path.
“Cassandra Moore,” Detective Miller said, pulling out a set of steel handcuffs. “You are under arrest as a co-conspirator in grand larceny, corporate fraud, and filing false financial instruments.”
“No!” Cassandra screamed as the steel cuffs clicked around her wrists. “Richard told me it was legal! He said his wife was a nobody who wouldn't notice! It was his idea!”
“Cassandra, shut up!” Richard screamed, his face red with perspiration.
“He paid for this dress with Veil Urban accounts!” she shrieked, struggling against the officers as they led her down the center aisle of the ballroom in front of three hundred elite Blackridge citizens. “He promised me the penthouse!”
The crowd parted for the officers, guests pulling out their phones to record every second of Cassandra’s disgraceful exit.
Richard turned back to me, his hands shaking, his expensive tuxedo now looking like a cheap costume.
“Evelyn... please,” he whimpered, falling to one knee on the stage floor, reaching for the hem of my midnight-blue dress. “Don't ruin me. I love you. We can start over. I’ll go to therapy—I’ll give you total control of the company!”
I looked down at the man I had spent three years trying to please. I looked at his polished shoes, his fake tears, and his hollow promises.
May you like
I pulled my hem back from his fingers.
“The only thing you are going to give me, Richard,” I said, looking down at him with quiet finality, “is my freedom.”
