Chapter 3 - The Best Man's ConfessionMarcus dropped the tray. Crystal flutes shattered against the marble floor, sending champagne spraying across the toes of his polished Italian leather shoes.
"What the hell is going on here?" Marcus demanded, stepping forward. His eyes darted to Maisie, then to the heavy chains on her ankle, and finally locked onto Sloane.
Sloane didn't flinch. In fact, her posture straightened. The panic was gone, replaced by a terrifying, chilling composure. She smoothed the front of her wedding dress as if adjusting herself for a family portrait.
"Marcus," Sloane said smoothly, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Just a minor family restructuring. Nothing for the best man to worry about. Go back outside and tell the guests the ceremony is delayed by fifteen minutes."
"Delayed?" Marcus looked at me, his face pale. "Graham, man, talk to me. Is this a joke? Why is Maisie chained up? Who packed those bags?"
"It’s no joke, Marcus," I said, my voice shaking with a rage so deep it felt cold. I held up the intake folder. "She forged my signature. She wired forty-five grand from my account. She was shipping my daughter off to a behavioral lockup while we were on our honeymoon."
Marcus stared at the folder, then swallowed hard. He looked away, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other.
"Marcus?" I narrowed my eyes. "Why aren't you surprised?"
Marcus didn't answer. He stared intensely at the floorboards.
"Marcus," I repeated, stepping toward him. "Look at me. What do you know about this?"
"I... I didn't know about the chain, Graham, I swear to God," Marcus muttered, running a hand through his hair. "She told me... Sloane told me you guys agreed that Maisie needed specialized care because of her night terrors. She said you wanted to keep it quiet from the press so your custody battle with Elena's estate wouldn't flare up again."
"You knew about the facility?" My chest tightened as if a fist were squeezing my heart.
"She asked me if I knew a good private consultant three weeks ago," Marcus confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Sloane said you were too soft-hearted to make the hard choice yourself. She said you wanted a fresh start. A clean slate."
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"A clean slate," I repeated bitterly. I looked at Sloane. "You lied to my best man, too. You manipulated everyone around me."
"I managed everyone around you," Sloane corrected sharply, stepping closer. Her eyes flashed with predatory ambition. "Because you're too weak to protect your own legacy, Graham. You were still mourning a dead woman while living with a child who cries every time the wind blows. I brought order to this chaos. And right now, you have five minutes to decide whether you want to walk out that church door with me as your wife, or lose your company, your social standing, and your daughter, because I promise you—if you humiliate me today, I will burn your entire life to the ground before the sun sets."
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