Chapter 4 - The ReconnaissanceAt 8:00 PM, I drove out to Cedar Grove Estate.
The sprawling 19th-century stone mansion sat atop a manicured hill, surrounded by ancient oaks and glowing under professional architectural lighting. White marquee tents spanned the East Lawn, and the hum of high-end generators vibrated through the evening air.
I parked my sleek black Audi a quarter-mile down the private lane, out of sight, and walked up the gravel path in a sharp charcoal pantsuit and designer sunglasses, despite the gathering dusk.
Through the French doors of the grand ballroom, I could see the wedding planner running around like a headless chicken, while Julian and Chloe stood on the raised dais arguing over floral arrangements.
"I told you, pink peonies look cheap!" Chloe shrieked, her voice carrying through the open transom window. "We need more orchids! Make Evelyn’s stupid credit card pay for them!"
"Relax, babe," Julian laughed, slinging an arm around her waist. "My sister is a drone. She’ll pay whatever we ask. She’s terrified of being cut off from us."
"Are you sure she won't cause a scene tomorrow?" Chloe asked, pouting.
"What scene?" Julian scoffed, taking a sip from a martini glass. "I already banned her in the group chat. Dad backed me up instantly. She swallowed it like a good little dog. She won't even show her face."
I stood in the shadows of the veranda, listening to their laughter echo off the polished stone floor.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an email from my lead corporate attorney, Arthur Vance Jr.—no relation, thankfully, just a brilliant litigator named Thomas Vance.
May you like
“Evelyn,” the email read. “All asset liens have been verified. The catering contracts, venue lease, photography rights, and floral ownership papers are 100% under your personal LLC. If you revoke permission tomorrow, they have zero legal recourse to use any of those items. The police will enforce trespassing laws if they attempt to enter without your authorization.”
I smiled in the dark. The stage was set. The trap was sprung. All that remained was the curtain-raising.
