Chapter 6 - The Shattered Glass
The Grand Pavilion erupted into chaos.
Guests were standing, whispering, pointing. Some of the older Whitlock relatives were already calling their lawyers.
Sloan screamed, a high, piercing sound that cracked through the glass structure. She grabbed a champagne bottle from the head table and threw it. It missed Eleanor, shattering against the stone floor, spraying expensive vintage foam over the pristine white rose arrangements.
"You old bitch!" Sloan screamed, her perfect bridal facade entirely disintegrating. "You ruined my day! You planned this! You wanted to humiliate me!"
Daniel stepped back from her, his face filled with horror. "Sloan... is it true? Did you take that money? Did you lie about your grandmother?"
"Who cares about the grandmother!" Sloan hissed, her eyes wild. "She was dying anyway! We needed that money, Daniel! Do you know how hard it is to live like a peasant while everyone else has everything?"
My mother rushed to Sloan’s side, her voice rising in hysterical defense. "Daniel, please! Sloan was under so much stress! Emma... Emma is the one who did this! She set us up! She’s always been jealous of Sloan’s beauty, of her happiness!"
Diane pointed a trembling finger at me. "Look at her! Sitting there in that ridiculous dress! She wanted this! She’s been planning this since she came back from her deployment!"
I stood up from Table 32.
The movement was slow, deliberate. The bright orange polyester fabric rustled against the quiet that had suddenly settled over the room as people turned to watch me.
I walked toward the head table. One hundred twenty steps per minute. Heel to toe.
I stopped ten feet from my mother and sister.
"I didn't plan this, Diane," I said, my voice carrying clearly through the silent room. "I didn't hire the forensic accountants. I didn't write Sloan's applications. I just wore the dress you gave me."
I looked at my sister, whose makeup was running down her face in dark, ugly streaks.
"You wanted everyone to see me, Sloan," I said softly. "You wanted to make sure nobody missed the 'unstable veteran' in the corner. Well, they’re looking now. Are you happy with the view?"
Sloan lunged at me, her hands clawing for my face.
Before she could reach me, two of the estate’s security guards—large men in black suits who had been standing near the entrance—stepped forward, grabbing her arms and holding her back.
"Get your hands off her!" my father shouted, finally finding his voice, though he still didn't look me in the eye.
"Mr. Clark," Eleanor Whitlock’s voice rang out from the podium, cold and final. "This is my estate. These are my guards. And if you and your family are not off this property in five minutes, I will have them file charges for criminal trespass and destruction of property."
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She looked at Daniel. "Daniel. Come with me."
Daniel looked at Sloan, then at his grandmother. Without a word, he turned his back on his bride, stepped off the platform, and followed Eleanor out of the pavilion.
