Chapter 4 - The Folder and the Bill
Tiffany watched Marcus approach with an irritated scowl, though a small flicker of unease flickered behind her heavy mascara. She set her empty champagne flute down on the linen-draped table with a sharp click.
"Excuse me," she said, raising her chin in the air. "Manager? What is the meaning of this? The music stopped, and my father says your bartenders are ignoring him. If this is some sort of union break, you’re going to comp us for lost time."
Marcus stopped three feet from the dais. He did not smile. He did not bow his head in deference as he had done all afternoon. He simply looked at her with cold, clinical detachment.
"Mrs. Julian Vance," Marcus began, his voice amplified by the dead silence of the room. "I am not here regarding a break."
"Then fix the music!" she snapped. "We have a schedule to keep."
"There is no schedule," Marcus said plainly. "As of four minutes ago, all services provided by the Grand Palisades Estate have been suspended."
A wave of gasps rippled through the surrounding tables. Julian’s mouth dropped open.
"What did you just say?" Donald boomed, shoving his way past two bewildered bridesmaids to stand beside his daughter. "Do you know who I am? Do you know how much money is being spent here tonight?"
"I know exactly how much money is being spent, Mr. Miller," Marcus replied calmly. He opened the black leather folder, turning a sheet of crisp ivory paper around so that it faced both Tiffany and her father. "And more importantly, I know *who* is spending it."
Tiffany glanced at the document, her eyes narrowing as she saw the bold red stamp across the top: **REVOCATION OF AUTHORIZATION.**
"What is this garbage?" she hissed.
"At six-fifteen this evening, the primary guarantor of this event, Mrs. Eleanor Vance, experienced an act of physical battery on these premises," Marcus announced, pitching his voice so that every single person in the first ten rows could hear every syllable clearly. "Under Section Nine of our facility contract, physical violence constitutes an immediate termination of all vendor agreements."
Tiffany’s face went white, the foundation on her cheeks suddenly looking chalky. "She... she can't do that! She already paid!"
"Mrs. Vance placed an initial non-refundable deposit of thirty thousand dollars to reserve the hall," Marcus explained with terrifying precision. "However, the remaining food and beverage minimum, the staff gratuities, the premium sound engineering, the security detail, and the three-hundred-plate dinner currently sitting on the warming racks in the kitchen were scheduled to be settled upon final delivery at seven o'clock tonight."
He produced a sleek silver pen and laid it on the edge of the table.
"Mrs. Vance has formally withdrawn her signature and frozen the credit line associated with this file. As of this exact moment, this wedding is ninety-four thousand, eight hundred and twenty dollars in arrears."
"Ninety-four thousand?!" Julian finally choke-gasped, staggering forward a half-step. "Marcus, wait... my mom wouldn't—"
"Your mother already did, Julian," Marcus said, his tone softening only slightly, laced with unmistakable disgust for the young man. "She has left the property. The car service has taken her home."
Donald let out a harsh, barking laugh, though his eyes darted nervously toward his wife, who had just joined the circle looking thoroughly alarmed. "This is a bluff. A pathetic shakedown. You can’t throw us out! We have two hundred and fifty people here!"
"I am not throwing you out, Mr. Miller," Marcus said smoothly, pointing to the bottom line of the invoice. "I am merely halting service. If you would like the music to resume, the bar to reopen, and the dinner service to commence, all you need to do is provide an alternate card that can successfully authorize ninety-four thousand dollars right now."
Marcus turned the pen toward Donald.
May you like
"The choice is entirely yours."
***
