My sister pushed me down a marble staircase at her luxury wedding rehearsal—and laughed when my leg snapped.

Deputy Miller didn't hesitate.

He stepped behind Sutton Ward, pulled a pair of heavy, matte-black steel handcuffs from his utility belt, and grabbed her right wrist.

*CLICK-SNAP.*

"Sutton Ward, you are under arrest for grand larceny, fraudulent use of a commercial credit device, and aggravated battery resulting in serious bodily injury," Deputy Miller recited in a calm, authoritative monotone. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"Get your hands off me!" Sutton shrieked, thrashing violently as the second cuff snapped around her left wrist behind her back. "Mom! Dad! Don't let him touch me! I'm the bride! Today is my wedding day!"

Her custom lace veil, which had been pinned into her intricate updo, tore loose during her struggle, fluttering pathetically to the floor like a dirty white flag.

Two additional county deputies entered through the side doors, moving directly toward Stellin Ward.

"Mr. Stellin Ward," the second officer announced, "we have an active criminal warrant for your arrest as an accessory to commercial credit fraud and grand theft."

"No! No, this is an administrative error!" Stellin sputtered, backing away until his spine hit the floral arch. A shower of white orchid petals rained down on his shoulders as the officer seized his arms, forcing them behind his tailored blazer. "Call my attorney! I have the right to a phone call!"

"You'll get your call at the county detention facility, sir," the officer replied, clicking the cuffs into place.

The ballroom was in complete disarray.

Guests were actively filming the arrests on their phones. Influencers who had spent the last two years tagging Sutton in lavish promotional reels were now livestreaming her being perp-walked down the center aisle of her canceled wedding, screaming curses at her sister, her mother, and the police.

"I hate you, Fallon!" Sutton screamed, her face purple with rage, her body twisted as the deputies marched her toward the exit. "I wish you had died on those stairs! I wish you were dead!"

"Keep moving, Miss Ward," Deputy Miller commanded, shoving her firmly through the double doors.

Althia sank to her knees on the marble floor, sobbing uncontrollably into her manicured hands, surrounded by the remnants of shattered crystal, spilled scotch, and fallen flowers. Not a single guest stepped forward to comfort her. Not one.

Eleanor Montgomery looked down at my mother with absolute, unadulterated disdain.

"A pathetic display, Althia," Eleanor said quietly. "My family’s attorneys will be in touch with your bankruptcy trustee."

Within fifteen minutes, the ballroom had cleared.

The guests departed in a hurried, embarrassed rush, whispering furiously into their phones as they called car services to flee the resort. The caterers began dismantling the champagne pyramids in grim, efficient silence.

Alden remained standing beside my wheelchair.

He looked exhausted, his shoulders slumped as if a physical weight had been lifted from his chest, leaving him hollow.

"Fallon," he said quietly, looking down at my cast. "I don't even know what to say. I feel like... I feel like I was asleep for two years, and I only woke up when you hit the floor last night."

"You woke up in time, Alden," I said softly. "A lot of men wouldn't have had the courage to walk away at the rehearsal."

"I should have seen it sooner," he whispered, shaking his head with bitter self-reproach. "The vanity. The way she talked about people. The way she treated waitstaff, the way she talked about your work... I thought she was just immature. I thought she would grow out of it."

"People like Sutton don't grow out of it, Alden," Vesper Vance said, stepping up beside us, snapping her litigation binder shut. "They simply find larger stages and bigger victims. You saved yourself half a lifetime of misery today, young man. Consider the loss of your deposits a very cheap tuition fee for an essential life lesson."

Alden managed a faint, sad smile. He looked at me, his eyes full of genuine warmth. "What happens to your leg now, Fallon?"

"I have sixteen weeks in this cast," I said, looking down at the steel fixator. "And then eight months of rehabilitation. But my business is intact. Vesper made sure of that."

"If you ever need structural consulting or facility engineering for your aerospace hangar expansions," Alden said, pulling a business card from his pocket and placing it gently in my hand, "call my firm directly. No charge. Ever. It's the absolute least I can do."

"Thank you, Alden."