Chapter 3: The Wolves at the Door
Chapter 3: The Wolves at the Door
Within ten minutes, the grand wedding of the year had turned into a crime scene. Two police officers entered the ballroom, escorted by Mr. Harrison.
Patricia was hysterical. "Do you know who I am? I am Patricia Whitlock! My husband is on the city council! You can't arrest me over a piece of cloth!"
"Ma'am, please step forward," the officer said, unclipping his handcuffs. "The property owner has pressed formal charges for property damage exceeding one hundred thousand dollars. That is a felony."
As Patricia was led out of the ballroom in handcuffs, her screams echoing down the corridor, the guests began to scramble. They realized that staying associated with the Whitlocks was now toxic. The socialites who had spent the morning ignoring Clara suddenly rushed forward with fake smiles, offering their condolences and trying to hand her their business cards.
"Clara, darling, I always knew you were special!" "Clara, if you need a legal team to handle the Whitlocks, my husband is the senior partner at—"
Clara raised her hand, silencing them all. "The reception is canceled. Catering will pack the food and deliver it to the local homeless shelters. Please leave through the side exits. The press is at the front gates, and I suggest you don't let your faces be seen in the background of the Whitlock family’s public downfall."
Within minutes, the ballroom was empty, save for Clara, Mr. Harrison, and her maid of honor, Chloe, who was her only true friend from college who didn't care about money.
Chloe walked over, wrapping her own coat around Clara’s bare, shivering shoulder. "Are you okay, El?"
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Clara looked at the beautiful, ruined ballroom. She felt a profound sense of relief, but also a simmering anger. For three years, she had endured Patricia’s snide remarks, her sabotages, and Andrew’s passive-aggressive gaslighting. She had done it because she genuinely loved Andrew and wanted to believe he was different from his elitist family.
"I'm fine, Chloe," Clara said, her eyes turning into flint. "Actually, I've never been better. Call the legal department. Tell them to call in all of the Whitlock family’s outstanding loans. By tomorrow morning, I want their interest rates tripled."
