Chapter 6 - Handcuffs and Crystal
The police officers didn't wait for the music to resume or the guests to clear out. They walked purposefully past the shattered remnants of the champagne tower, their heavy boots crunching loudly over the sea of broken crystal.
Vanessa backed away until she hit the velvet-draped stage where the wedding cake sat untouched. Her designer gown swept through pools of sticky champagne, staining the pristine white silk a dirty, alcohol-soaked yellow.
“You can’t do this!” she screamed, thrashing as the first officer gently but firmly grasped her wrist to slide the cold steel of the handcuffs into place. “Adrian! Tell them! Tell them you love me! We’re married! We’re legally married!”
Adrian didn't flinch. He stood tall beside his father, his expression hardened into an impenetrable wall of disillusionment.
“The marriage license hasn’t been filed with the city clerk yet, Vanessa,” Adrian said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “Your wedding planner forgot to submit it before the office closed at five o’clock. Conveniently enough.”
A collective gasp rippled through the audience. Even in the middle of a catastrophic financial and social collapse, the bureaucratic irony was staggering. Vanessa had been so obsessed with the theatrical perfection of the reception that she had neglected the actual legal paperwork—relying on a corrupt county clerk she had bribed, who had already been picked up by federal agents an hour earlier.
“No… no, no, no!” Vanessa wailed as the second cuff clicked into place, binding her hands behind her back. She was hauled away past the towering floral arrangements and the stunned faces of two hundred and eighty elite witnesses, her expensive designer veil catching on a rose bush and tearing away from her hair like a falling flag of surrender.
As the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, locking her away from the glittering world she had schemed so viciously to conquer, a heavy silence settled over the grand ballroom.
May you like
Arthur Vance cleared his throat, adjusting his tie. He turned to the stunned crowd of guests, offering a strained, polite smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur announced calmly into the microphone. “The open bar is still fully operational. I suggest you all grab a drink. The reception continues—minus the embezzlement.”
