Chapter 3 - The Counter-Strike
At 8:00 AM the following morning, the news of the canceled billionaire wedding broke across every major financial news outlet and tabloid front page in the country.
“BILLIONAIRE CANCELS WEDDING AT ALTAR AFTER TODDLER’S SHOCKING EXPOSÉ!”
“THE FOUR-BILLION-DOLLAR CON: INSIDE THE HART FAMILY SCHEME!”
In her luxury high-rise apartment on the Upper East Side, Vanessa threw a crystal wine glass against the wall, shattering it into a thousand pieces over the white marble floor.
"How did he find out about the London files?!" Vanessa screamed, her silk robe disheveled, her eyes bloodshot. "That record was sealed under a British non-disclosure agreement!"
Christian sat at the kitchen island, furiously typing on his laptop, his face pale with sweat. "He didn't just find the London files, Vanessa! His security team locked down all our corporate accounts three hours ago! The bank in Grand Cayman just froze our wire transfers!"
"Unfreeze them!" she shrieked, grabbing his lapels. "We have eight million in that account! Use the backup access codes!"
"The access codes are useless!" Christian yelled back, shoving her hands away. "He bought the bank's digital infrastructure security contract two years ago! Northstar Systems owns the servers our offshore accounts run on! He wiped our administrative clearance with a single line of code!"
Before Vanessa could scream again, the front door of her luxury penthouse was blown open with a deafening CRACK.
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DON'T MOVE!"
Six armed FBI agents in tactical vests swarmed the apartment, their weapons raised. Behind them stepped Special Agent Miller, holding an official arrest warrant.
"Vanessa Higgins, alias Vanessa Hart, and Christian Hart," Agent Miller announced, pulling heavy steel handcuffs from his belt. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, identity theft, and corporate espionage."
Vanessa stumbled back, clutching her silk robe around herself, her face devoid of all color. "This is a mistake! My father is a respected real estate developer! I’m marrying Ethan Cole!"
"Your 'father' was picked up by our Dallas field office an hour ago," Agent Miller said coldly. "He was running a fraudulent real estate syndicate that Ethan Cole’s audit team exposed last night. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
As the steel cuffs snapped shut around her wrists, Vanessa looked past the agents to the doorway.
Ethan was standing in the corridor, draped in a sharp charcoal suit, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Beside him stood Marcus.
"Ethan!" Vanessa cried out, falling to her knees on her marble floor, sobbing hysterically. "Ethan, please! I love you! They forced me to do it! Christian threatened me! He made me take the money! Please, tell them to stop!"
Ethan stepped past the FBI agents, stopping two feet away from her kneeling frame. He looked down at her with zero pity, zero anger—only an absolute, chilling indifference.
"You were right about one thing, Vanessa," Ethan whispered, leaning down slightly. "I was a lonely boy from Ohio who wanted to be loved."
May you like
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the worn, greasy paper towel he had used to wipe Lily’s tears at the chapel, and tossed it onto the floor beside her.
"But I’m not lonely anymore," Ethan said softly. "And you’re going to spend the next fifteen years in a federal penitentiary."
