Chapter 5 - The Escape and the ExecutionerThe emergency push-bar gave way with a heavy metallic groan, spilling me out into the blinding midday sunlight of the municipal parking lot. My heels clicked frantically against the asphalt as I sprinted toward my vintage convertible parked near the back row—far away from the rows of luxury European sedans belonging to my fiancé’s high-society guests.
Behind me, the chapel doors burst open.
"Stop her!" my former mother-in-law shrieked, her voice cutting through the growing roar of angry wedding guests spilling out onto the steps. "She’s insane! Tackle her!"
Two of the groomsmen—junior partners at my fiancé’s firm, dressed in matching custom tuxedos—came barreling across the pavement like linebackers.
I didn't panic. I popped the trunk of my car with the key fob, reached inside, and pulled out a heavy titanium golf club case. As the first lawyer lunged toward my waist, I swung the heavy hard-shell case in a wide, sweeping arc. It caught him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling backward onto the hood of a parked Mercedes with a satisfying thud.
The second lawyer skidded to a halt, his eyes wide as I racked the combination lock on the case open, revealing not golf clubs, but a portable high-speed satellite uplink and a secure encrypted terminal.
"Step back," I said, my voice dead calm as I pulled out a can of industrial pepper spray from my garter belt and aimed it straight between his eyes. "Unless you want your name added to the federal indictment currently downloading to the DOJ server."
He took two very slow steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.
Just then, my fiancé rounded the corner of the building. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore; his tie was undone, his collar soaked in sweat, his expression a terrifying mask of fury and desperation.
"Clara, you are making the biggest mistake of your life," he panted, stopping ten feet away. "You think you can ruin everything I’ve built? Do you have any idea who backs me? You’ll be bankrupt before sunset. Every credit card, every bank account, every asset your family owns is tied to my corporate portfolio. I can crush you with a single phone call."
I leaned against my car door, crossed my arms, and gave him a slow, pitying smile.
"That's funny," I said, tapping the screen of my encrypted terminal where a green progress bar hit 100%. "Because according to the federal cybercrime division, your primary offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands were just frozen under the Patriot Act five seconds ago."
His face went from pale to a terrifying, mottled purple. "You didn't."
"I did," I replied sweetly. "And as for my family's assets? My father transferred our corporate holdings out of your reach three hours ago, right after your grandmother called him from a burner phone to warn him what kind of monster you really are."
Before he could lunge forward, the wire-rimmed glasses slipped down his nose as the sound of distant, approaching sirens began to wail down the street.
Multiple black-and-white cruisers turned the corner, lights flashing red and blue against the stone walls of the chapel.
May you like
My fiancé stared at the cruisers, then back at me, realizing the absolute, catastrophic checkmate he had walked himself into.
I slid into the driver's seat of my convertible, tossed my ruined veil into the passenger footwell, and turned the ignition. The engine roared to life, purring like a caged beast ready to run.
