Handing Him Eviction Papers at Our Wedding Altar

"Wait," Chloe whispered, her eyes darting to the next paragraph. "This says the remaining ten percent is absorbed by the board of directors."

"Hand me the paper!" Julian demanded.

Chloe backed away from him. "Julian, look at the bottom line. Your personal equity. It says zero. You own zero percent of Vance Tech."

The cathedral erupted. Five hundred guests broke into a chaotic roar of overlapping voices.

"Zero?" a board member in the third row shouted.

Julian stared at Chloe. The blood drained from his face, leaving him a sickly, pale gray.

"This is a mistake," Julian stammered.

"There is no mistake," I said.

He dropped his hands. He spun toward the center of the altar, reaching for the microphone stand.

"Listen to me!" Julian yelled into the mic, his voice echoing over the crowd. "This is a stunt!"

I stepped directly into his path.

He reached to shove me aside. I sidestepped, letting his own momentum carry him forward. He stumbled, his expensive dress shoes skidding on the polished marble.

Marcus stepped up beside me. He held out a thick, bound stack of papers.

I took the heavy file.

"You want to talk about stunts?" I asked.

I raised the stack of notarized asset liquidation documents.

I slammed them down onto the mahogany podium.

The heavy thud echoed through the speakers. The binding snapped on impact. Hundreds of pages exploded across the altar, fluttering down to the red carpet.

"Every single account," I announced, projecting my voice without the microphone. "Every property, every stock option, every offshore trust. Signed, sealed, and notarized."

Julian dropped to his knees. He snatched up a random page from the floor.

"My penthouse," he muttered, his eyes scanning the text.

"Deeded to the company," I replied.

He grabbed another sheet. "The Cayman accounts..."

"Frozen and reallocated."

Chloe stared at the scattered papers. She backed further away from him.

"You have nothing?" she asked, her tone entirely devoid of the sickly sweet affection she had used minutes ago.

"Chloe, wait," Julian pleaded, looking up from the floor. "My lawyers will fix this. I will fight her."

"With what money?" I asked.

"I pay a massive legal retainer!" Julian shouted.

"Mr. Vance," Marcus interjected, adjusting his glasses. "As of nine o'clock this morning, you no longer have legal representation. Our firm was retained by Vance Tech, not you personally."

"I built Vance Tech!" Julian screamed, his voice cracking. "My name is on the building!"

"Your name is on the lease," I corrected. "A lease I terminated an hour ago."

Chloe pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You told me you were invincible. You told me she was just a stepping stone!"

"She is a trust fund idiot!" Julian yelled.

"This idiot just took your entire life," I noted.

"What about my position?" Chloe asked, turning her glare on me. "I am still the marketing director."

"You were fired at nine-fifteen," I informed her.

"You have no right to fire me! I have a contract!"

"Your contract had a morality clause," Marcus stated smoothly. "Sleeping with the CEO constitutes a breach."

"He is not the CEO anymore!" Chloe argued.

"Which makes you entirely irrelevant," I replied.

Chloe stared at me, then down at her custom white silk gown.

"I paid thirty thousand dollars for this dress," she whispered.

"Put it on your tab," Julian snapped, scrambling to his feet.

"You said you were paying for it!"

"I do not have thirty thousand dollars!" Julian screamed at her.

The entire cathedral fell dead silent. The admission hung in the air, pathetic and final.

Julian realized what he had just yelled. He closed his eyes. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently near his ear.

"Harper, be reasonable," Julian said, lowering his voice so the front row could not hear. "We built this together."

"My family funded it. You just spent the profits."

"I am the face of the brand! The stock will tank without me."

"The stock rose twelve percent this morning when rumors of your departure leaked."

Julian flinched. The insult hit harder than a physical blow.

"You flew her to Paris on the company jet," I continued. "You bought her a diamond necklace with company funds."

"I will pay it back!"

"You lack the funds to pay it back."

Chloe gasped. "You used company money for my necklace?"

"Shut up, Chloe!" Julian barked.

"Is that why the police are going to be involved?" Chloe asked, her voice trembling. "Julian, did you commit fraud?"

"Nobody is calling the police!" Julian shouted.

"Actually," Marcus interrupted, checking his silver wristwatch. "The SEC has already been notified of the misappropriated funds."

Julian spun toward the lawyer. "You rat."

"I am fulfilling my fiduciary duty to the primary shareholder," Marcus replied.

Julian snapped. His polished facade shattered entirely.

He lunged forward and clamped his hand around my wrist.

A sickening layer of cold sweat coated his palm. His fingers dug into my skin, squeezing hard enough to grind my bones together. A sharp spike of pain shot up my arm.

"You set me up," he hissed, his face inches from mine.

"You set yourself up," I countered, keeping my expression perfectly neutral.

"I will destroy you, Harper."

I smiled coldly. I let out a short, hollow laugh.

I raised my free hand. I caught his thumb and bent it backward.

Julian gasped, his grip loosening just a fraction. I peeled his fingers off my wrist, one by one.

I shoved his hand away.

I looked down at my throbbing wrist, then at my pristine white silk skirt.

I wiped my skin against the expensive fabric, scrubbing away the feeling of his sweat in absolute disgust. I maintained eye contact the entire time.

"You disgust me," I said.

Julian’s face flushed a deep, violent purple. His chest heaved, straining the buttons of his tuxedo shirt.

"You arrogant bitch," he spat. "You think you can just throw me out of my own wedding?"

"It hasn't been your wedding for ten minutes," I said.

A sharp mechanical click echoed from the shadows behind the altar.

The heavy oak side doors swung open.

The hotel’s director of security stepped out. Ten guards in matching black suits filed in behind him.

Their faces were entirely blank. They marched down the red carpet in perfect unison, heading straight for us.