Chapter 4 - The Signing on the Altar
Every camera phone in the ballroom was raised. The flashbulbs popped like a storm of artificial lightning, illuminating my obsidian crown with every step I took.
Carter stood frozen at the altar. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, but no sound came out.
I reached the front of the stage. I didn't take Carter’s hand. I didn't look at the minister, who was standing beside the altar looking thoroughly bewildered. I stepped onto the raised platform, turned around, and faced the two hundred guests.
Diane Whitmore stood up from her front-row seat, her face contorted in pure rage. "Rachel! What is the meaning of this spectacle?! You are embarrassing my family!"
"Sit down, Diane," I said. My voice wasn't loud, but it was amplified by the hidden lapel microphone I was wearing. It echoed clearly through every speaker in the room, dropping the temperature of the ballroom to sub-zero.
Diane gasped, stumbling back into her chair.
I turned to face Carter.
Up close, I could see the sweat glistening on his forehead. The arrogance that had defined him for three years was cracking, revealing the desperate, terrified fraud beneath.
"Rachel..." Carter stammered, leaning in close, trying to keep his voice low so the guests wouldn't hear. "What... what the hell are you wearing? Where is the wig?! Are you out of your mind?!"
I looked at him with a smile so cold it made his shoulders pull inward.
"You told me in your text message this morning not to embarrass you, Carter," I whispered smoothly. "I thought I’d dress for the occasion."
Carter gritted his teeth, his jaw working violently. He stepped closer, attempting to grab my wrist—the same wrist he had pinned to the sofa two nights ago. "You listen to me, you crazy bitch. You are going to step off this stage right now, go back upstairs, put on the dress my mother bought you, and—"
Before his fingers could touch my skin, a massive hand framed in a dark suit jacket clamped around Carter’s forearm.
One of my grandfather’s security guards, a six-foot-four former Marine named Marcus, squeezed Carter’s wrist until the groom’s face turned bright red and he let out a choked gasp of pain.
"Touch her again, Mr. Whitmore," Marcus growled softly, "and I’ll break your fingers in front of your mother."
Marcus released him, stepping back. Carter clutched his arm, stumbling backward against the wooden podium.
Margaret Sloan stepped onto the stage, placing the heavy mahogany box onto the ceremonial table where the marriage license lay.
She opened the box, pulling out two thick stacks of legal documents bound in red ribbon.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Margaret’s voice boomed through the ballroom speakers. "Before any vows are exchanged today, there is a matter of contractual execution that must be finalized."
Carter’s corporate attorney, Harold Vance, quickly stepped forward, trying to regain control of the situation. "Ah, yes! The prenuptial amendment! Carter, sign the paper now so we can proceed with the ceremony!"
Harold pushed a pen into Carter’s shaking hand.
Carter looked at me, a desperate, feral glimmer returning to his eyes. He thought this was his moment. He thought that despite the black dress, despite the shaved head, despite the public scene, he was still going to get his hands on the fifteen million dollars.
"You want the money, don't you, Carter?" I asked softly, taking the pen from his fingers.
"Rachel, please," Carter choked out, trying to force a charming smile through his sweat. "Let’s just sign the paper, get through the wedding, and we can talk about everything in private. I’m sorry about your hair... I was just stressed... I love you, Rachel."
"I know you love me, Carter," I smiled, holding the pen over the paper. "Or rather, you love what you thought I was worth."
I lowered the pen to the signature line.
The two hundred guests leaned forward in their seats. Diane Whitmore gripped her husband’s arm so tightly her knuckles turned white. Carter held his breath, his eyes glued to the tip of the pen.
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I didn't sign my name.
Instead, using bold, dark ink, I drew a massive, thick X across the entire signature block of the prenuptial amendment.
