Chapter 5 - The Dress Rehearsal
The Grand Ballroom of the Newbury Hotel was a masterpiece of classic European elegance. Soaring gilded ceilings, massive crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Boston Public Garden set the stage for what was supposed to be the premier society wedding of the season.
It was Friday afternoon, twenty-four hours before the ceremony.
Dozens of workers were scurrying across the floor, positioning white marble pedestals, hanging thousands of imported white roses, and adjusting dynamic stage lighting.
At the center of it all stood Celeste, wearing an oversized beige trench coat and holding a clip-board like a high-fashion general. Beside her was Grant, looking nervous, his eyes darting to his phone every twenty seconds.
I walked into the ballroom wearing a tailored ivory jumpsuit and sunglasses. Behind me walked two men in dark suits—my senior legal counsel, Arthur Vance, and a private security specialist named Reynolds.
"Avery!" Celeste called out, rushing toward me with open arms. "Babe! Look at this place! Isn't it magical? We transformed the entire space in less than twelve hours!"
I allowed her to hug me, feeling the artificial warmth of her embrace.
"It’s breathtaking, Celeste," I said, stepping back and taking off my sunglasses. "It looks... extremely expensive."
"Only the best for my favorite girl," Celeste beamed, though her eyes flicked nervously toward the two men standing behind me. "Who are your friends?"
"This is Arthur, my corporate legal counsel, and Mr. Reynolds, head of security for Bennett Crisis Group," I introduced smoothly. "Given the high profile of our guests tomorrow—and the presence of several major media outlets—I thought it best to have my private team review the operational logistics."
Grant hurried over, offering a tight, rigid smile. His skin looked sallow, and dark circles were carved beneath his eyes. He hadn't slept.
"Avery," Grant said, stepping close and trying to take my hand. "Can I talk to you for a moment? Private matter."
"Of course," I said, stepping aside with him toward a row of velvet curtains.
The moment we were out of earshot, Grant grabbed my elbow. His grip was tight, desperate.
"The wire," he whispered frantically. "The portal shows the funds are in transit, but my firm's clearing house says the clearing authorization is locked under a security flag. What did you do?"
I looked down at his hand on my elbow until he slowly released his grip.
"I told you, Grant," I said softly, my voice filled with innocent concern. "A transfer of that size requires dual compliance verification from my corporate trust. It’s an automated fraud-prevention protocol. It clears forty-eight hours after initiation."
"Forty-eight hours?" Grant gasped, his face going completely white. "That means... that means the funds won't unlock until Saturday night!"
"Saturday night at eight o'clock, to be exact," I said, smiling gently. "Right in time for our reception dinner. Isn't that romantic? Our combined financial future officially unlocks the moment we cut the cake."
Grant looked like he was going to throw up. He staggered back a step, his mind wildly attempting to calculate how he was going to survive the next thirty-six hours without those funds to stop his firm from filing criminal charges.
"Is there... is there no way to override it?" he choked out.
"Why would I override security protocols, Grant?" I asked, tilting my head with faint curiosity. "Is there an urgent rush? Do you have an outstanding bill that can't wait until tomorrow night?"
"No! No, of course not," Grant lied hastily, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his lip. "Just... wanted to make sure everything was settled."
"Everything is settled," I assured him, touching his cheek with a cool, gentle hand. "You look tired, my love. Why don't you go back to the hotel suit and rest? Celeste and I can handle the rest of the rehearsal."
He stared at me, completely trapped, utterly powerless, unable to confess his fraud without destroying his entire narrative on the spot.
"Okay," he whispered faintly. "Okay. I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner tonight."
He turned and practically fled from the ballroom.
I walked back to Celeste, who was watching Grant’s hasty exit with a frown.
"Is Grant okay?" she asked, adjusting her clipboard. "He’s been acting super weird all day."
"He’s just nervous about the wedding," I said smoothly. "By the way, Celeste, the hotel management mentioned that there was a minor issue with the production deposit for the ballroom. They said the credit card on file was declined this morning."
Celeste’s body went rigid. Her face flushed a dark, guilty red before she quickly covered it with a nervous laugh.
"Oh! That’s... that’s completely ridiculous!" she stammered, her voice pitching an octave higher. "It must be a banking glitch! My corporate accountant is handling a transfer from our European accounts right now. I’ll clear it up in ten minutes!"
"Don't worry about it," I said warmly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I told the hotel director that Bennett Crisis Group would personally guarantee all outstanding balances for the event. I signed a corporate indemnity waiver twenty minutes ago."
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Celeste’s eyes lit up with sheer, unadulterated relief. "You did? Oh, Avery! You are literally a lifesaver! I promise, as soon as the event wraps up tomorrow, my firm will reimburse yours entirely!"
"I know you will, Celeste," I said, my smile sharpening into a razor-blade edge. "I have every intention of collecting every single penny."
