Chapter 6 - The Fall of the House of Harrington
Agent Miller stopped right at the base of the altar, ignoring Julian, who was now backed up against the massive floral arrangements like a cornered animal. The agent’s sharp eyes locked onto Victoria, who was still slumped in her seat near the front.
"Victoria Harrington," Agent Miller’s voice boomed through the PA system, clear and unyielding. "You are under arrest for wire fraud, money laundering, and corporate embezzlement. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Two marshals flanked Victoria, hauling her up from her seat despite her frantic, clawing protests. Her designer Chanel jacket tore as she thrashed against them, her perfectly styled silver hair coming undone in wild strands around her face.
"Get your hands off me!" she screached, her aristocratic poise completely shattered. "Do you know who I am? My family built this city! Julian! Do something! Julian, save me!"
Julian stood frozen, staring at his mother in handcuffs as her cries echoed off the cathedral's stained glass windows. He didn't move. He couldn't. He was paralyzed by the realization that his entire world—his wealth, his status, his untouchable immunity—had evaporated in less than five minutes.
Agent Miller then turned his attention to Julian, pulling a second set of gleaming steel cuffs from his belt.
"Julian Harrington," Agent Miller said calmly, stepping forward. "You are also under arrest as an active co-conspirator in the Harrington Holdings financial fraud scheme."
"No—wait, you've got it all wrong!" Julian stammered, his aristocratic charm melting into pathetic, frantic whining. He held out his hands defensively, backing away until his heel caught on a decorative pillar. He tripped, tumbling backward into a massive display of white roses and hydrangeas, sending petals flying everywhere.
The marshals didn't hesitate. They pinned his arms behind his back and slapped the cuffs onto his wrists, hauling him up to his feet while bits of crushed flower petals clung to the shoulders of his expensive Tom Ford tuxedo.
As they dragged him down the center aisle—the very aisle where we were supposed to take our vows—Julian glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred.
"You tricked me," he hissed through clenched teeth, his face red with humiliation as five hundred society elites watched his downfall. "You played the long game. You pretended to be a nobody just to destroy us!"
"I didn't destroy you, Julian," I replied softly, watching as the heavy doors closed behind the federal marshals, cutting off his muffled curses. "You built a house of cards on a foundation of stolen money. I just gave it a little breeze."
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The cathedral fell silent once more. Five hundred people sat in absolute shock, staring at the empty altar, then turning their gaze back to me standing alone in my sharp blue pantsuit.
I took a deep breath, adjusted the lapel of my jacket, and walked toward the pulpit.
