Chapter 3 - The Blood ExchangeDaniel swallowed hard, his throat working furiously as he tried to regain his composure. He looked from Isabella’s radiant, mesmerizing face to the man standing beside her—a man whose single nod could liquidate his entire company by morning.
"Isabella..." Daniel stammered, his voice thin. "What... what is this? What are you doing here?"
"She's crashing our wedding," Camille hissed, stepping forward, though her hands were trembling so violently her bouquet shook. "How dare you! Security! Where is security?"
None of the venue security moved. They stood glued to the walls, staring at Lorenzo’s men with wide, terrified eyes.
Lorenzo stepped forward slightly, placing a heavy, protective hand on the small of Isabella’s back. The gesture was possessive, absolute, and undeniably public.
"Security answers to the management," Lorenzo said, his voice a deep, reverberating baritone that commanded total silence. "And as of twenty minutes ago, I bought the Witmore Grand. You are standing in my living room, Mrs. Vance."
Camille turned ash-white.
Lorenzo looked down at Daniel with blatant contempt. "I understand you have been making use of the Cruz family's legacy to secure your line of credit with the city infrastructure board. You told them Frank Cruz’s daughter was your silent partner."
Daniel’s eyes went wide with panic. "I—that was just administrative language—"
"That was fraud," Isabella interrupted smoothly, stepping closer to Daniel, her eyes locking onto his. "And as of five minutes ago, my fiancé’s legal team has filed a formal injunction freezing every asset tied to the Vance-Whitfield development deal."
Fiancé.
The word hung in the air like a detonation.
"Fiancé?" Camille shrieked, her composure cracking entirely. "Lorenzo Vescari wouldn't touch a nobody like you! This is a joke! A cheap trick!"
Lorenzo didn't lose his temper. He simply lifted Isabella’s hand, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of her fingers, right above the black diamond ring.
"My wife-to-be is many things, Camille," Lorenzo said quietly, his gray eyes locking onto the trembling bride with lethal intent. "A 'nobody' is not one of them. But you... you are a woman who stole a broken trinket and thought you had won a prize."
He turned his gaze back to Daniel.
"You have forty-eight hours to vacate the commercial properties on 4th Street. If your equipment is still there on Tuesday morning, my men will demolish it. With you inside if necessary."
A murmur of horror swept through the elite crowd. Daniel looked as if he were about to vomit. He looked at Isabella, pleadingly, searching for the soft, forgiving woman who used to cook him dinner and handle his balance sheets late into the night.
"Isabella... please," Daniel whispered. "We were together six years. You can't do this."
Isabella smiled. It was a cold, gorgeous smile that didn't reach her eyes.
May you like
She pulled a pristine white handkerchief—Lorenzo’s handkerchief—from her clutch and dropped it onto the floor at Daniel’s feet, right into the puddle of spilled scotch and broken glass.
"I can," Isabella said softy. "And I will. Enjoy your reception, Daniel. It's the last good night you'll have for a very long time."
