Chapter 5 - The Collapse of Lies
Panicked screams echoed through the ballroom as guests scrambled out of the way.
Mason Reed completely lost his mind. "No! Wait! It wasn't me! It was Drake! Drake set the fire! He told me nobody would get hurt! He gave me the fifty thousand dollars!"
"Shut your mouth, you idiot!" Drake roared, trying to break toward the rear exit, but Frank stepped into his path, sweeping Drake’s legs out from under him and pinning him face-down onto the marble floor.
An FBI agent slammed handcuffs onto Drake’s wrists, yanked him to his feet, and began reading him his rights.
Meanwhile, two agents cornered Mason near the broken champagne glass. Mason dropped to his knees, sobbing hysterically. "Emma! Please! Tell them! I didn't know the fire was going to be that bad! I didn't mean for you to get hurt! Please, Emma, tell them to stop!"
Emma walked forward slowly. The crowd went dead silent as she stopped directly in front of the man she had once loved.
She looked down at him. He was groveling on the floor, his expensive tuxedo ruined by spilled champagne, tears and mascara smearing his face, stripped of every ounce of dignity.
"You sat at my table four weeks ago, Mason," Emma said, her voice dropping into a clear, cutting whisper that resonated through the entire room. "You told me you couldn't spend the rest of your life apologizing because you were alive. You told me you were disgusted every time you looked at my face."
Mason wept, lifting his hand toward her. "Emma, please... I was confused! I still love you!"
"No, Mason," Emma said coldly. "You didn't hate my scars because they were ugly. You hated them because every time you looked at them, they reminded you of what a monstrous coward you really are."
She looked at Claire, who was standing frozen against the ice sculpture, weeping in horror as she realized her wealthy fiancé was going to prison for the rest of his life.
"He's all yours, Claire," Emma said softly. "Just make sure you check the smoke alarms."
Emma turned her back on Mason.
The FBI agents yanked Mason to his feet, pulling him toward the doors in handcuffs as media reporters shoved microphones into his face, capturing his tearful, pathetic meltdown on live national television.
Victor Vance walked up beside Emma. He offered her his arm.
Emma took it, placing her right hand over his dark wool sleeve. She held her head high, walking past the stunned crowd of billionaires, politicians, and reporters.
As they stepped out onto the front steps of the St. Regis into the cool night air, camera flashes exploded like stars around them.
"How do you feel, Miss Carter?" a reporter yelled, shoving a microphone forward. "How do you feel seeing the men who burned your building brought to justice?!"
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Emma stopped on the top step. She looked directly into the camera lens, her midnight-blue dress fluttering in the breeze, her left jaw scar framed by the glittering sapphire necklace.
"I feel like an emergency nurse who just cleared a toxic infection," Emma said calmly. "And the prognosis is excellent."
