"It Was For Views!" My Sister Laughed As Guests Ran To Help Me Up. I Heard My Back Snap-And She Knew About My Injury. Everyone Heard Her Laughing. But Her Fiancé Heard Something Else. He Turned And Looked At My Sister...

Deline looked from the card to my father’s trembling fingers. "Dad, make them leave! Merrick, tell them to get out! We have forty minutes before the ceremony!"

"There isn't going to be a ceremony," Merrick said. He reached down, slowly unfastened the diamond-and-platinum boutonnière from his lapel, and dropped it onto the vanity table. It landed with a dull clink against the polished stone.

"Merrick, no!" Mom pleaded, rushing forward to grab his sleeve. He pulled his arm away as if brushed by something filthy. "Think about the families! Think about the press! We can settle this privately after the reception! Sloan isn't dead! She's right here!"

*Sloan isn't dead.* The words hung in the air, putrid and revealing. That was the bar for my survival in my mother's eyes: as long as I wasn't in a morgue, Deline’s party could proceed.

"Let’s talk about money," Vaughn said, flipping open the folder. He pulled out a crisp, itemized printout stamped with the red watermark of our corporate forensic accounting division. "At 11:42 PM last night, while Sloan was lying on an emergency room gurney having her spinal cord scanned, an unauthorized transaction for sixty-two thousand dollars was processed through Atrium Luxury Lighting and Floral."

The color drained completely from Mom’s face.

"The card used," Vaughn continued, "was an emergency procurement card issued solely to Sloan Ward for offshore structural crane repairs. It requires a dual-factor biometric authorization or an emergency override PIN. Sloan did not authorize this charge."

"I... I had permission," Deline stammered, backing away until she hit the wall. "Mom said Sloan would cover the floral overages! Sloan makes six figures! She doesn't even spend her money! She lives in a plain apartment while I—"

"You took her corporate card out of her purse when she fell," I said.

The room went dead silent.

"When I was on the marble floor," I whispered, the memory burning with acute humiliation, "I thought you were checking on me. You bent down. You touched my handbag. You told the caterer to move my things out of the hallway so people wouldn't trip on them."

"You stole from a Fortune 500 defense contractor," Vaughn stated plainly. "That card is monitored by federal compliance protocols. Because it was used across state lines for non-contractual personal luxury expenses, it constitutes grand larceny and wire fraud. I have already flagged the transaction with our federal liaison."

"Dad!" Deline wailed, her hands flying to her ears. "Fix it! Tell them to take it back! Pay them!"

Dad stood frozen. "We... we don't have sixty-two thousand dollars in liquid cash, Deline. You insisted on the imported orchids and the mirrored ceiling trusses. You said Merrick's father would reimburse us!"

"My father didn't sign a vendor contract," Merrick said coldly. "Neither did I. That was entirely your family’s vanity project."

Merrick pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and put it on speaker.

"Security," a voice answered from the device.

"This is Merrick Thorne," he said calmly. "The wedding is canceled. Lock the mezzanine doors and direct all guests to the grand ballroom for an announcement. Do not allow anyone from the bridal suite to leave the premises without police escort."

"Understood, Mr. Thorne. Local units are already pulling into the front drive."

Deline collapsed onto the carpet, clutching the hem of her designer dress, sobbing with an ugly, panicked rasp. "Merrick, please! I love you! I did it for us! I wanted our wedding video to go viral! I wanted everyone to look at us!"