My wedding turned into a nightmare when my husband suddenly grabbed me in front of our guests and shoved my face into the wedding cake while his friends laughed. I stood there frozen, frosting covering my dress, then slowly removed my ring. “I’d rather walk away right now than spend my life trapped with you,” I said. He laughed—until I made one phone call and his entire family realized exactly what walking away would cost him... - True Stories / Chapter 4 / 40

Chapter 4 - Activating Clause Twelve

I pushed backward with all my strength, finally breaking Grant's grip. I straightened up slowly, my chest heaving. My cheek burned fiercely where it had struck the hard, wooden cake stand beneath the frosting.

A heavy, intricate sugar rose detached from my face and slid slowly down the front of the pristine ivory gown, leaving a greasy, ruined trail right over the spot where my mother's pearls were hidden.

Grant didn't look apologetic. He was still gripping my upper arm, his fingers digging painfully into my bicep. He turned to the crowd, flashing a brilliant, arrogant smile for the dozen cell phones currently recording us.

"Now she finally looks sweet!" Grant yelled over the music.

More laughter erupted from his corner of the room. This was not the charming, sophisticated man who had courted me for two years. This was the raw, unfiltered truth. This was the monster I had only briefly glimpsed behind closed doors.

I wiped a thick glob of frosting from my eyelashes so I could look him directly in the eye.

"Let go of me," I said quietly, the command vibrating with a lethal intensity.

Grant’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Oh, come on, Claire. Don't be a buzzkill. It's a wedding tradition."

I didn't argue. I didn't scream. I calmly reached over with my free hand, gripped the massive diamond engagement ring and the brand new wedding band, and slid them off my finger. I placed them deliberately into the ruined wreckage of the cake.

"I’d rather walk away right now than spend my life trapped in a cage with you," I said, my voice carrying clearly to the front row of tables.

Grant let out a harsh, dismissive laugh, tightening his painful grip on my arm. "You’re my wife, Claire. You aren't going anywhere. Stop being dramatic."

With my free hand, I reached into the hidden pocket sewn into the skirt of my gown and pulled out my phone. The Vances had thought my wealth made me a target. They forgot that wealth also made me a weapon.

I hit the first number on my speed dial. My chief counsel, Mara, answered on the first ring.

"Mara," I said, staring unblinkingly at Grant's arrogant face. "Stop the Vance wire transfer immediately. Activate Clause Twelve and place a litigation hold on every single due-diligence file we possess."

The atmosphere in the room violently shifted.

Eleanor abruptly stopped clapping. Grant’s father, sitting at the head table, suddenly stared down at his phone as an urgent, red alert flashed across the screen.