Chapter 2 - THE WEDDING DELAY

Ethan left Nora in the safety of the head housekeeper’s locked office with strict instructions not to open the door for anyone but him or Rachel. He then strode into the estate’s security hub, a windowless room humming with servers and glowing with two dozen surveillance monitors.

Marcus, Ethan’s head of security and a former Marine, sat up straight as the boss entered. “Sir? Shouldn’t you be at the altar?”

“Lock the door, Marcus,” Ethan ordered. “And pull up the raw footage for the past ninety days. Everything in the residential wings, the study, and the service corridors.”

Marcus frowned but executed the command instantly. “Miss Vivian had me delete the residential corridor feeds a few weeks ago. Said she felt her privacy was being invaded.”

“Did you delete them?” Ethan asked.

Marcus allowed a grim half-smile. “I moved them to a secure offline drive, sir. Standard protocol when an executive’s partner requests data deletion without primary authorization. You want to see them?”

“Yes. Look for Wednesday, outside the linen room. And I want the audio feeds from the study.”

For twenty minutes, they sat in silence, illuminated by the blue glow of the screens. What they found was a horror show wrapped in high-definition video.

They watched Vivian Sterling drop her benevolent facade the second Ethan’s car left the driveway. They saw her snap her fingers at elderly staff members, purposefully spill red wine on a rug to force a maid to scrub it on her knees, and violently shove a florist out of her way.

Then came Wednesday’s footage. Silent but damning. Vivian backing Nora into a corner, her hand shooting out, fingers clamping viciously around the maid’s wrist. Nora wincing in agony, trapped, until Rachel walked around the corner and Vivian immediately released her, pasting on a fake smile.

“Son of a bitch,” Marcus whispered.

But it was the audio file from the study that sealed the coffin.

Marcus isolated the date Nora had mentioned. The recording was crystal clear. Vivian’s voice, dripping with arrogant amusement, echoed in the small room.

“...Yes, Arthur, funnel another two hundred thousand into the Cayman account. Ethan never checks the charity ledgers himself, he leaves it to the board, and I’ve already bought out the auditor... The wedding is on Saturday. Once there’s a ring on my finger, I get half the company in a divorce anyway. We bleed him dry either way.”

Ethan sat perfectly still. The betrayal was so profound, so meticulously calculated, that it went beyond heartbreak. It was a surgical strike on everything he held dear. He had almost tied his life, his legacy, and his home to a monster.

He looked at his watch. 10:15 AM.

The guests had been waiting in the chapel for forty-five minutes.

“Marcus,” Ethan said, standing up and straightening his tie. “Call the police. Give them this audio file. Tell them I want to press charges for embezzlement and assault.”