Chapter 2 - The Contractual Noose
The threat hung in the air like poison.
Daniel stood up from his seat, his hand instantly finding mine. His grip was warm and solid, but I could feel the tension radiating from him. His recovery from emergency abdominal surgery had been brutal, and the stress of this wedding was the last thing his body needed.
"Jenna," Daniel said, his voice dangerously low. "You wouldn't dare."
"Try me, Daniel," Jenna sneered, crossing her arms. "I am the coordinator of record. The Grand Oak Manor requires the lead planner's signature for the final release of the ballroom, the catering, and the security deposit. If I walk out of here and mark this event as 'disputed' or 'fraudulent' on the agency portal, the venue’s automated system will lock the doors. Your guests will be standing outside in the gravel parking lot tomorrow afternoon."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Our guests had traveled from three different states. Some of our elderly relatives had spent their limited savings on flights and hotel rooms. If Jenna cancelled the wedding now, the financial and emotional devastation would be irreversible. We couldn’t afford to book another venue. We had no money left.
"She's bluffing," Uncle Arthur growled, stepping forward. He was a tall, imposing man who had made his fortune in construction. "We can just call the police. You stole eighteen thousand dollars, Jenna. That is grand larceny. You’ll be in a cell by midnight."
"Call them, Uncle Arthur," Jenna challenged, her eyes flashing with a desperate kind of arrogance. "Go ahead. By the time the police write up the report, process the paperwork, and get a warrant, tomorrow’s wedding date will have passed. And guess what? The joint account was legal. As a co-owner, I had the legal right to move those funds. It’s a civil dispute, not a criminal one. Any lawyer will tell you that. It will take months to settle in court. But your precious little Mia’s wedding? It dies today."
She was right. Technically, because it was a joint account opened twelve years ago, the bank viewed both of us as equal owners of the funds, regardless of who deposited them. Mr. Holloway nodded grimly, confirming my worst fears.
"Legally speaking," Mr. Holloway murmured to me, "the bank cannot freeze the funds or reverse the transfer without a court order, because Mrs. Harlowe is a named owner on the account. I am here today only to verify the transaction history as requested by you, Ms. Vance."
"Thank you, Mr. Holloway," I whispered, my throat dry.
Jenna laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. "So, what’s it going to be, Mia? Are you going to apologize to me in front of everyone, tell them this was all a 'misunderstanding,' and let me handle the wedding tomorrow? Or are you going to go home, cry into your eighty-nine-dollar blender, and tell your guests the wedding is cancelled?"
The room was dead silent. My mother sat in the corner, her face buried in her hands, weeping silently. She hated conflict, and seeing her two daughters at war was breaking her heart.
I looked at Daniel. His face was pale, but his eyes were fierce. He whispered, "Mia, whatever you decide, I am with you. We don’t need the big venue. We can get married in a park. Don't let her blackmail you."
I loved him so much for saying that. But I looked at Aunt Carol, who was eighty-two and had severe arthritis, yet had sat in a car for six hours to be here. I looked at Daniel’s parents, who had worked extra shifts to afford their contribution. They deserved to see us walk down that beautiful aisle.
I took a deep breath. I looked at Jenna.
"Alright," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "You win, Jenna."
Jenna’s smirk returned, wider and uglier than before. "I'm sorry, dear, I didn't quite hear you. Could you say it louder so the whole room can hear?"
"I said, you win," I repeated, louder this time. "I won't call the police. I won't press charges. Just sign the final venue release forms tonight, let us have our wedding tomorrow, and we will deal with the money afterward."
"Smart girl," Jenna purred. She reached out and patted my cheek, her fingers cold. "I knew you’d make the right choice. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to freshen up. This 'drama' has ruined my appetite."
She turned and strutted out of the ballroom, her heels clicking victoriously.
The guests began to disperse in hushed, angry whispers. Uncle Arthur looked at me with deep disappointment, shaking his head. Daniel’s parents looked devastated.
But as the ballroom cleared, I didn't cry.
I waited until Jenna was completely out of sight. Then, I turned to Mr. Holloway, who was packed up and ready to leave.
"Mr. Holloway," I said, a cold smile slowly spreading across my face. "Do you have the second folder I asked you to prepare?"
Mr. Holloway smiled back—a genuine, knowing smile. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a smaller, blue folder.
"Right here, Ms. Vance," he said. "The tax records and corporate registration for 'Vance Sparkles' from 2014 to 2016. Including the outstanding state tax lien that your sister forgot existed."
I took the folder. My hands were perfectly steady now.
Jenna thought she had trapped me with her venue contract. But she had forgotten that when our jewelry business failed, she had left me to handle the closing paperwork. She had assumed I filed everything correctly.
I hadn't. Because of her constant interference and refusal to sign the dissolution papers, the business was never legally dissolved. It had been suspended by the state of Illinois for unpaid franchise taxes and penalties—penalties that had been compounding for twelve years.
And since she had just reactivated that exact business account to deposit the $18,000, she had legally revived the entity.
"How much do we owe the state in back taxes and penalties, Mr. Holloway?" I asked.
"With interest and late fees over twelve years?" Mr. Holloway adjusted his glasses. "Exactly twenty-two thousand, four hundred and ten dollars. And since she just transferred seventeen thousand dollars out of that account into a personal investment portfolio, the State Department of Revenue will flag it as an illegal asset transfer to evade a tax lien."
I gripped the blue folder tightly.
Jenna wanted her wedding tomorrow. She was going to get it. But by Monday morning, the government was going to seize every single penny she had—and then some.
But I didn't know that Jenna had one more card to play.
As I walked out of the ballroom to find Daniel, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number.
May you like
“If you think the bank account is your only problem, check the security cameras at the venue office from last night. Ask your fiancé what he was doing in the bridal suite with your sister at 2:00 AM.”
My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the screen, the world spinning around me.
