Chapter 3 - The Price of Treachery
My father dropped his champagne glass. The crystal shattered against the marble floor, sparking a small mess of effervescent gold around his shiny Italian leather shoes.
"That... that is an outrageous accusation!" Richard Sterling stammered, his hand flying to his silk tie, pulling at it as if it were suddenly choking him. "Vance Logistics entered that partnership in good faith! We had a legal right to reallocate discretionary capital!"
"Not into an offshore account in the Cayman Islands registered under the name 'Chloe Sterling Fashions LLC,' you didn't," Arthur Vance said calmly, pulling out a sheaf of bank statements stamped with federal regulatory seals. "The Department of Justice Criminal Investigation Division was notified at two o'clock this afternoon. The moment this reception ends, federal subpoenas will be served at your corporate headquarters on Wall Street."
My mother gripped my father’s arm so tightly her knuckles turned blue. "Richard? What is he talking about? You said Chloe's business was thriving!"
"Shut up, Victoria!" Richard snapped, his high-society composure entirely disintegrating. He turned on Liam, his eyes wild. "You calculated this! You waited until the wedding day to expose this?!"
"I didn't choose the date, Richard," Liam said coldly. "Your daughter Chloe chose it. She transferred the final installment of stolen funds yesterday afternoon, thinking we were too busy with wedding preparations to notice the red flag in the clearing house."
Liam turned to look at Chloe, who was shrinking back against the velvet drapery, looking frantically for an exit.
"And as for the wig," Liam added, reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a black USB drive and held it up. "The St. Regis hotel security system has high-definition cameras installed in every hallway. At three-fifteen today, camera four captured Chloe exiting Valeria's suite holding a black velvet box, walking down the service stairs, and throwing it into the floor's industrial linen shredder."
I stared at Chloe. I had known she was cruel, but hearing that she had intentionally destroyed something that represented my painful, fragile recovery hit me like a physical blow.
"You shredded it?" I whispered.
"You didn't deserve any of it!" Chloe suddenly shrieked, breaking down into hysterical, ugly sobs, her polished mask completely ripped away. "You were always the weak one! The quiet one! Why do you get Liam?! Why do you get the diamonds, the attention, the public love, while I had to work twice as hard just to keep Dad's approval?! You should have died in that hospital, Valeria! You were supposed to die!"
The horrific words echoed in the enclosed space.
My mother stood frozen, horrified not by the fact that her daughter had wished her sister dead, but by the fact that several waiters and nearby guests had paused outside the alcove, hearing every word.
I didn't cry. I didn't scream.
I walked up to Chloe. She was shivering, consumed by her own toxic envy, tears ruining her expensive makeup.
I looked at the sister I had spent thirty years trying to please, trying to soothe, trying to keep happy so my family would love me half as much as they loved her.
I raised my right hand and delivered a swift, resounding slap across her cheek.
The crack echoed through the alcove. Chloe staggered back, clutching her face, gasping in utter shock.
"That was for my wig," I said, my voice steady and cold as steel.
I stepped back and took Liam's arm.
"Liam, call security," I said, looking over my shoulder at my father and mother. "I want these three removed from our reception immediately."
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"Valeria, no!" my mother pleaded, reaching out her hands, tears finally ruining her eyes. "Think of the scandal! Think of the press! What will people say if we are escorted out of your wedding by guards?!"
"They'll say," I said, turning my back on her as the security guards stepped into the alcove, "that the queen finally cleared the trash out of her castle."
