Chapter 4 - Chaos at Table One
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"Give me that paper, Clara!" Peter barked, striding toward the stage with long, aggressive steps.
Before he could reach the wooden stairs, my late husband’s older brother, Uncle David, stepped out from Table 1.
David was a six-foot-four retired sheriff’s deputy, and he moved with terrifying speed. He slammed a heavy palm into Peter’s chest, shoving my brother back five feet until Peter stumbled into a table, sending water goblets crashing to the floor.
"Sit down, Peter," David growled, his voice deep as thunder. "Let the bride finish speaking."
The ballroom went completely insane.
My mother was sobbing into her napkin. Evan’s parents—a wealthy couple from out of state—were standing up, looking around in utter confusion.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Evan's father yelled. "Evan, explain yourself right now!"
Evan stepped toward the stage, raising his hands in a frantic gesture of peace. "Dad, please! Clara is having a nervous breakdown! She’s been stressed about the wedding planning for weeks! Ask her—ask her to show you the signature!"
"I don't need to show them the signature, Evan," I said, holding the microphone tight. "Because the bank app on my phone just sent me an automated security notification."
I pulled my phone from my small wedding clutch, unlocked the screen, and held it up to the stage spotlight.
ALERT: High-Value Transfer Request - $500,000.00 pending secondary approval.
"Five hundred thousand dollars," I read aloud, my voice echoing over the silent room. "Transferred directly from Sophie’s trust fund to a shell company called 'Vance & Mercer Holdings'."
I turned my eyes toward my brother Peter.
May you like
"Vance & Mercer," I whispered through the microphone. "That was the name of the real estate firm you tried to launch two years ago, wasn't it, Peter?"
Peter’s eyes went wide. He looked around the room, realizing that every single one of our mutual friends, cousins, and old neighbors was staring at him with pure disgust.
