Chapter 3 - The Financial Trap
While Zachary and I sat overlooking the San Antonio skyline, the reception hall had transformed into a scene of chaotic realization.
According to private investigator reports that Zachary’s assistant quietly compiled later that evening, Andrew Foster and Gemma Salas were basking in the glow of their hastily improvised wedding. Brenda was regaling the remaining guests with exaggerated stories of how she had orchestrated the transition, painting me as a cold, career-obsessed monster who abandoned her groom at the altar.
The illusion shattered when the evening’s final vendors arrived to collect their payment.
The head caterer marched straight up to the head table where Andrew and Gemma were cutting the cake.
"Mr. Foster, we need to settle the remaining balance for the evening," the caterer announced loudly, holding out a digital tablet. "Total comes out to twelve thousand four hundred dollars. Plus overtime for the waitstaff."
Andrew blinked, wiping a smear of frosting from his finger. "Oh, charge it to the card on file. Dr. Samantha Miller handled all the primary billing arrangements."
The caterer frowned, tapping furiously on his screen. "Sir, I tried running the primary card three times. It’s declined. Furthermore, the venue manager says the security deposit check written by Dr. Miller has a stop-payment order on it, and the secondary account associated with the booking has been completely frozen."
Andrew’s smile faltered. "Frozen? That’s impossible. Call her back."
"We tried calling her," the venue coordinator chimed in, stepping up behind the caterer with a clipboard in hand. "In fact, Mr. Foster, we need to talk about the venue rental. The contract was signed under Samantha Miller’s name, utilizing her personal line of credit as collateral. Since she left the premises and is no longer part of this event, the contract is technically in breach. Unless someone here has twenty-five thousand dollars to cover the remaining balance right now, we are going to have to ask you to vacate the premises immediately."
The music ground to an abrupt halt. Whispers erupted among the guests. Gemma dropped her fork, her face draining of color.
"Twenty-five thousand?" Gemma hissed, turning to Andrew. "Andrew, you said Samantha’s parents or her savings were covering the entire wedding! You said everything was paid for!"
"It was paid for!" Andrew stammered, standing up so fast his chair screeched against the hardwood floor. "She had a fund set aside! I didn't know she was going to pull a stunt like this!"
Brenda rushed to her son’s defense, glaring at the venue manager. "Listen here, you insolent little—my son is a successful architect! He will write you a check right now! Andrew, give them your corporate card."
Andrew’s face turned the color of ash. He slowly reached into his tuxedo pocket, pulled out a slim leather wallet, and extracted a sleek platinum card. He handed it to the venue manager with a forced, trembling smile.
"Here. Run it."
Ten agonizing minutes passed. The murmurs among the guests grew louder. Finally, the manager walked back, holding the card between two fingers like it carried a contagious disease.
"Declined. Insufficient funds, and the corporate line has been suspended by Howard Enterprises' commercial auditing division."
Andrew stared at him in horror. "Howard Enterprises? That’s impossible! My firm does subcontracting work for them, but—"
"Mr. Zachary Howard is the primary owner and board chairman of Howard Enterprises," the manager stated coldly, folding his arms. "And I was just informed by his executive secretary that all pending commercial contracts involving Foster Architecture have been placed under immediate federal audit due to suspected financial discrepancies."
Silence descended upon the room like a lead blanket.
Back in the penthouse suite, Zachary Howard slowly lowered his smartphone, a cool, terrifying smile playing on his lips. He looked across the coffee table at me, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.
"It appears, Dr. Samantha," Zachary said smoothly, "that your ex-fiancé just tried to pay for his wedding with a corporate credit line linked to a company I own. And as of five minutes ago, my legal team has frozen every single asset, account, and project associated with Foster Architecture."
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I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. "You... you did that?"
Zachary leaned forward, his hazel eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down my spine. "You saved my daughter's life today, Samantha. Nobody touches what is mine—and nobody hurts someone who took care of my blood."
