Chapter 8 - The Fall
"Turn it off!" Derek screamed, lunging toward the altar boy.
"Leave him alone!" I yelled, stepping in Derek's path.
My father was already out of his seat, his face purple with rage. He grabbed Sloane by the arm. "Is this true?!" he roared.
Sloane was sobbing hysterically, her makeup running down her face. "Daddy, he manipulated me! It's his fault!"
Derek spun around, looking at the horrified faces of his investors, his family, and my wealthy friends. He was watching his entire life vaporize in real-time.
"Elena, please," Derek begged, falling to his knees. "That was taken out of context! I love you. We can fix this. You need me! Without me, you lose the trust fund today!"
"Actually," a deep, booming voice interrupted.
The crowd parted.
Julian Vance stepped out of the shadows, walking smoothly up the steps of the altar. He stood beside me, a dark king in a bespoke suit.
Derek looked up, terrified. "Vance? What are you doing here?"
Julian pulled a thick folded document from his breast pocket and tossed it onto the floor at Derek's knees.
"Foreclosing," Julian said simply.
Derek scrambled to pick up the paper. His eyes darted wildly over the legal text.
"As of 9:00 AM this morning," Julian announced to the church, "Vance Holdings has acquired the total debt of Hale Architecture. And since you violated the moral turpitude clause in your loans, Derek, I am calling the debt due. Immediately."
Derek dropped the paper. "Fifty million dollars. I don't have that."
"I know," Julian smiled coldly. "So I am taking your firm, your penthouse, your cars, and your intellectual property. You are bankrupt, Derek."
Derek pointed a trembling finger at me. "She’ll pay it! Her trust fund!"
"Oh, Derek," I laughed, a real, bright laugh that felt like sunshine breaking through clouds. "I don't have a trust fund anymore."
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I held up my left hand. On my ring finger, hidden until now by my bouquet, rested a massive, flawless blue diamond.
"Julian and I were married by a judge on Tuesday," I said, staring at the ruined man on the floor. "My trust vested into our joint holding company. You get nothing."
