Chapter 8 - The Groom’s Verdict
"Alden is right here," a cold, baritone voice echoed from the side entrance of the pavilion.
Alden Vance walked out onto the stone patio.
He was not wearing a tuxedo. He was wearing a simple, dark tailored suit, accompanied by his father, Arthur Vance, the patriarch of the Vance empire, and his brother Marcus.
Sutton let out a desperate, theatrical sob, lifting the heavy skirts of her gown as she tried to hurry toward him. "Alden! Baby, thank God! Clara has completely lost her mind! She hacked the screens! She fabricated a fake video to humiliate me because she’s jealous! She’s trying to destroy our love!"
Alden didn't take a single step forward to meet her. He stood like an iron statue, his hands clasped behind his back, looking at her not with anger, but with an icy, absolute detachment that was far more devastating.
"The video didn't come from Clara, Sutton," Alden said, his voice carrying over the dead silence of the courtyard.
Sutton froze mid-step, her lace train dragging across the grass. "What?"
"It came from my personal security detail," Alden said. "I had them review the mezzanine footage last night the moment I heard your laughter while your sister was screaming in agony on the floor."
"Alden, please!" Eleanor cried out, rushing toward the Vance family. "They’re sisters! They have squabbles! It was just a misunderstanding, an accident—"
"Be quiet, Eleanor," Arthur Vance spoke for the first time. The elderly billionaire looked down at my mother as if she were a stain on his shoe. "Your daughter is a violent sociopath. And you and your husband are petty, thieving parasites."
Arthur turned toward the assembled guests, raising his hand to address the stunned socialites.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Arthur announced clearly. "There will be no wedding today. The Vance family does not associate with thieves, nor do we welcome domestic abusers into our lineage. The reception is canceled. The suites are locked. And the Sterling family has precisely thirty minutes to vacate this property before they are removed for criminal trespass."
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Sutton’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of crimson. "You can't do this to me! I signed the contract! I am the bride! You promised me this wedding, Alden! You love me!"
"I loved the person you pretended to be," Alden said, pulling the platinum engagement ring box from his breast pocket and tossing it carelessly into a nearby decorative fountain. "The woman who deliberately crippled her own sister for amusement is someone I wouldn't trust to walk my dog. We're done."
