Chapter 13 - THE WEDDING PLAN
Friday became the longest day of my life.
We listened to the recordings.
My father.
Harlan.
Marco.
Police commissioners.
Judges.
Contractors.
Names I knew.
Names America knew.
Deals.
Threats.
Payments.
And finally, my father’s death.
Harlan’s voice was unmistakable.
The old man is becoming a liability.
Marco answered.
I can handle Gabriel.
Vivien stopped the recording.
Her father looked at the floor.
“You poisoned him,” I said.
Marco didn’t deny it.
Luca stood.
I grabbed his arm.
“Not now.”
“He killed Dad.”
“So did Dad.”
That stopped him.
Our father had destroyed lives too.
Justice became harder when every victim had also been someone else’s villain.
We sent encrypted copies of the recordings to three attorneys, two journalists, and one federal prosecutor with automatic release instructions.
If we disappeared, the truth would not.
Saturday morning arrived clear and cold.
Ravenwood looked beautiful.
White flowers lined the chapel.
Musicians tuned strings.
Caterers carried silver trays.
Guests arrived in black cars.
Nobody knew they were walking into a war fought with contracts, microphones, and hidden cameras.
Vivien stood in the bridal suite wearing her wedding dress.
I entered without knocking.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
“For a fake wedding, this is a very expensive dress.”
“It’s already paid for.”
She smiled weakly.
Then silence.
I stood beside her.
“We don’t have to do this.”
“Yes, we do.”
“I mean the wedding.”
She looked at me.
“Oh.”
For once, Vivien Rossi—Vivien Bellini—had no clever response.
“I don’t know what was real,” I said.
Her eyes lowered.
“I do.”
“What?”
“The first four months were fake.”
That hurt.
“The next three were confused.”
“Wonderful.”
“The last seven were real.”
I looked at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because every day I waited made telling you worse.”
“That part I believe.”
She laughed softly.
Then tears came.
“I never wanted you dead.”
“Low bar.”
“I know.”
“And Elena?”
“I warned Luca when my father ordered it.”
“So you did help.”
“Yes.”
I wanted an easy answer.
Love her.
Hate her.
Forgive her.
Walk away.
Real life rarely gives one.
A knock sounded.
Tony entered.
“Harlan’s here.”
I kissed Vivien’s forehead.
Not her mouth.
“Time.”
Guests filled the chapel.
Harlan sat in the front row.
Smiling.
Claire entered through the side door wearing black.
She gave me one nod.
The ceremony began.
Vivien walked toward me.
Beautiful.
Terrified.
At the altar, the officiant spoke words neither of us heard.
Then an assistant brought the legal documents.
Harlan watched.
I signed.
Vivien signed.
Harlan relaxed.
Exactly as planned.
Then the chapel doors locked.
Tony stepped forward.
Federal agents entered from the side aisles.
Guests screamed.
Harlan stood.
“What is this?”
I looked at him.
“Our reception.”
His smile vanished.
Agents began moving toward him.
Then Harlan pulled out a phone.
He pressed one button.
“Dominic,” he said calmly. “Did you really think I trusted the chapel explosives?”
My stomach dropped.
A distant explosion shook Ravenwood.
Not beneath us.
From the main house.
Elena screamed from the back pew.
May you like
“Emma!”
The nursery wing erupted in smoke.
