Chapter 5 - THE PROCESSION INTERRUPTEDInside the cathedral, the air was thick with the scent of white lilies and burning frankincense. Two hundred high-society guests sat in absolute silence, turning their heads as the organ swelled to its crescendo.
At the end of the long aisle, standing beside the pastor beneath the towering stone altar, was Ryan Brooks. He looked immaculate in his tailored tuxedo, smiling proudly as the church doors swung open, expecting to see Lauren gliding toward him in her ten-thousand-dollar gown.
Instead, the doors clicked shut behind a single figure walking with slow, deliberate steps down the center aisle.
At first, murmurs rippled through the pews. Heads turned. Whispers erupted like dry brushfires.
Isn't that... isn't that his ex-wife? What is she wearing? Why is she here?
Ryan’s smile vanished instantly. His blood ran cold as he stared down the aisle, watching Mia Carter advance toward the altar with the unblinking, predatory focus of a hawk. Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, each step echoing through the silent cathedral like a hammer strike.
Lauren, who had just appeared at the back of the aisle on her father’s arm, froze in her tracks. Her face went deathly pale, and her fingers tightened so hard around her bouquet that the white roses began to bruise.
Ryan took three swift steps forward from the altar, his face contorting into a mask of furious humiliation.
Mia! What the hell are you doing? Ryan shouted, his voice ringing out against the vaulted ceiling, breaking the sacred silence of the ceremony. Get out of here right now before I have security throw you out on the street!
Mia didn't stop. She continued walking until she reached the third row of the pews, casually stopping and turning to face the congregation before looking directly up at the altar.
Throw me out, Ryan? she asked, her voice carrying effortlessly without a microphone. On our wedding anniversary? Well, technically ex-anniversary, but who’s counting?
The murmurs in the pews erupted into outright gasps. Several socialites covered their mouths with gloved hands.
You psychotic bitch! Ryan roared, marching down the steps of the altar, his face flushed with rage. You couldn't stand the sight of me moving on, could you? You’re barren, you’re broken, and you couldn't handle that another woman gave me a family!
Mia let out a low, cold laugh—a sound so devoid of warmth that it sent a shiver down the spines of everyone in the front rows.
Barren, Ryan? she asked, tilting her head. Is that what you told your guests? Is that what you told Lauren while she was helping you embezzle my grandmother’s inheritance?
Lauren’s father stepped forward from the back of the aisle, his face purple with indignation. This is an outrage! Security! Remove this lunatic immediately!
Two massive security guards came running up the aisle from the back doors, closing in on Mia from both sides.
Before they could lay a finger on her, Mia reached into her designer tote bag, pulled out the thick leather folder, and slammed it down onto the polished wood of the front pew with a sharp thwack.
Touch me, and you won't just ruin a wedding, Mia said, locking eyes with the security guards before turning her gaze to Ryan. You’ll be accessories to grand larceny and federal fraud.
Ryan stopped dead in his tracks ten feet away from her, his chest heaving. What is that? What are you playing at?
It’s not a game, Ryan, Mia said softly, stepping closer to him while the entire cathedral watched in stunned silence. It’s an audit. And the sponsor funding your perfect little wedding—Vance-Brooks Enterprises—happen to be the exact corporate vehicle you and Lauren used to launder six hundred thousand dollars from my family trust.
Lauren shrieked from the back of the aisle, dropping her bouquet as she clutched her stomach. It’s a lie! She’s lying!
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Mia turned her head slowly, looking back at the pale, trembling bride in her white dress.
Is it, Lauren? Mia asked smoothly. Because the bank routing numbers, the signed wire authorizations, and the federal subpoenas sitting in this folder say otherwise. And by the way... congratulations on the baby. Too bad the father isn't the man standing at the altar.
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