Chapter 5 - The Handcuffs
The silence in the Imperial Bridal Suite was absolute, broken only by the horrific, wheezing sobs of Brianna as the paramedics placed a burn sheet over her face and loaded her onto a gurney.
"Mom...?" Brianna gasped from beneath the white sheet, her voice trembling with excruciating pain and utter betrayal. "Mom... what did you do...? What did you do to my face?!"
Marjorie couldn't look at her daughter. She pressed her back against the bathroom wall, her hands trembling so violently her gold clutch bag slipped from her grip and hit the floor with a loud thud.
"Brianna... honey... I didn't mean to..." Marjorie whimpered, her voice cracking into a pathetic, desperate squeak. "It was supposed to be for Tessa! It was supposed to keep Tessa away!"
The room gasped in collective, unanimous horror.
The makeup artists recoiled from Marjorie as if she were a rabid animal. The bridesmaids stared at her with open, absolute disgust.
The Chief of Security stepped forward, pulling a heavy tactical radio from his belt.
"Dallas Police Department, this is Security Lead at the Bellweather Hotel," he said into the mic, his eyes locked on Marjorie and Ethan. "We have an active aggravated assault with a deadly toxic substance inside Suite 302. Two suspects are currently detained on scene. Send officers immediately."
"Wait! No! You can't do this!" Ethan screamed, snapping out of his shock, lunging toward the security officer. "This is a family misunderstanding! My mother didn't mean to hurt my sister! It was an accident!"
The second security officer stepped in front of Ethan, placing a massive, heavy hand against his chest, shoving him back against the vanity mirror.
"Stay right where you are, sir," the officer ordered coldly. "Do not move."
I stood in the center of the room, completely composed, watching the destruction of the Vance family with cold, calculated detachment.
Ten minutes later, the heavy boots of four uniformed Dallas Police Department officers echoed down the hallway. They stepped into the suite, their eyes taking in the blood-stained carpet, the discarded burn sheets, the gold-topped jar sitting under my heel, and the overwhelming evidence presented on my phone.
A female officer approached me first.
"Ma'am, are you Tessa Vance?" she asked professionally.
"I am," I said, handing her my ID, along with a printed folder containing the lab reports, the video files on a USB drive, and the timeline prepared by my attorney, Caroline Miller. "Everything is documented here, Officer. The primary actor is Marjorie Vance. The accessory before and after the fact is my husband, Ethan Vance."
The officer reviewed the documents for two minutes, nodded gravely, and turned to her partner.
"Take them into custody."
Two officers stepped toward Marjorie.
"No! Get your hands off me!" Marjorie shrieked as the officers grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms behind her back. "Do you know who I am?! My daughter is marrying a Whitmore! You can't put handcuffs on me in this hotel!"
CLICK-CLACK.
The heavy steel cuffs locked tightly over her wrists, pinching the silk of her lavender gown.
"Marjorie Vance, you are under arrest for aggravated assault causing serious bodily injury, possession of a prohibited chemical weapon, and reckless endangerment," the officer read her Miranda rights in a flat, monotone voice.
"Ethan! Help me! Do something!" Marjorie screamed, thrashing against the officers as they dragged her toward the door.
Ethan tried to step forward, but the female officer caught his arm, spinning him around, and slamming his chest against the marble vanity counter.
CLICK-CLACK.
A second pair of steel handcuffs locked over Ethan’s wrists.
"Ethan Vance, you are under arrest for criminal conspiracy to commit aggravated assault and obstruction of justice," the officer announced.
Ethan turned his head, looking at me through the vanity mirror, his eyes filled with tears, terror, and desperate, pathetic pleading.
"Tessa... please!" Ethan sobbed, his voice cracking. "Tell them it was a mistake! Tell them to stop! I'm your husband! You can't let them take me to jail!"
I took a slow step toward him, stopping six inches from his face.
I looked at the man I had lived with for three years. The man I had supported, built a home with, and trusted with my future.
"You knew she was trying to burn my face, Ethan," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, but carrying the weight of a granite tombstone. "You didn't care if I was scarred for life. You just wanted to make sure I didn't ruin your family's precious picture."
"Tessa... I was just trying to keep the peace!" he wept, tears streaming down his face, smearing his eye makeup. "My mom forced me into it! She said you needed to be brought down a notch!"
"The peace is over, Ethan," I said softly.
I turned my back on him as the police dragged both Ethan and Marjorie down the hallway of the Bellweather Hotel, past three hundred stunned, horrified wedding guests who recorded every second of their arrest on their smartphones.
I walked over to the floor, picked up the gold-topped jar of Lumière Supreme using a sterile plastic bag provided by the forensic officer, and handed it to the crime scene investigator.
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My job in the bridal suite was done.
Now, it was time to tear down the rest of their world.
