Chapter 6 - The Arrest at the AltarThe white roses overhead seemed to mock the absolute chaos that had erupted inside St. Jude’s Chapel. Flashbulbs strobed continuously, casting frantic, jittery shadows against the soaring stone arches as the press pool surged forward, microphones thrust eagerly toward the altar.
Evan stood frozen, his bespoke suit suddenly looking like a straitjacket. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped—only a shallow, ragged rasp.
“Mr. Evan Hart,” Marcus Vance’s voice cut through the clamor with the cold precision of a scalpel. He pulled a set of polished steel handcuffs from his associate's briefcase and stepped forward, flanked by the federal court officer. “You are under arrest for interstate wire fraud, corporate identity theft, and the fraudulent conveyance of intellectual property under false pretenses.”
“This is insane!” Mom shrieked, finally breaking past the altar rail. She lunged toward Marcus, her manicured fingers clawing at the air. “You can’t do this! This is a sacred wedding! Elena, call them off! You’re destroying your own sister’s life over a petty grudge!”
I didn’t blink. I looked down at my mother, whose face was mottled with a furious, hysterical crimson.
“You told me to stay behind the pillar, Mom,” I replied, my voice chillingly calm. “You told me not to ruin her real family. Well, I’m just letting the real family see what kind of man you traded me for.”
Dad rushed forward next, his face dark with veins bulging at his temples. He raised a heavy, threatening hand as if he intended to strike me right there in front of the cameras.
“You ungrateful, malicious little bitch—” Dad roared.
Before his hand could even clear his shoulder, the court officer stepped smoothly into his path, pinning Dad’s arm behind his back with practiced ease and shoving him hard against the stone pillar where Lily and I had been standing moments before.
“Step back, sir,” the officer warned, his voice deep and absolute. “Interference with a federal officer executing an arrest warrant is a felony. Do it again, and you’ll be sharing a holding cell with your former son-in-law.”
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Dad grunted in pain, his face pressed against the marble. The guests gasped, pulling back in horror.
Claire let out a piercing, bird-like shriek, collapsing into a heap of French silk and crushed white rose petals on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably into her veil.
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