Chapter 1 - The Architecture of a Trap
“Perfect timing,” I repeated, my voice steady, carrying without the need for a microphone.
Ashley blinked, her grip on the wireless mic faltering just a fraction. She had braced herself for tears. She had prepared for me to throw a glass of wine, to run crying into the Marriott lobby, or to scream at Eric. She had not prepared for me to look at her with the serene, unbothered patience of a woman who had already won the war.
Eric finally moved.
He lunged out of his chair, his face a mask of sheer panic, reaching toward the stage. "Ashley, shut up! What are you doing? Have you lost your mind?"
"I’m fighting for our family, Eric!" Ashley cried into the mic, her voice shrill, echoing off the chandeliers. She pointed a manicured finger at me. "Linda doesn't love you! She’s cold! She just cares about her reputation and her family's money. We love each other! Tell her!"
The two hundred guests were completely paralyzed. The city council candidates were staring with open mouths. The retired judge had completely forgotten his dry chicken.
"Eric, sit down," I said softly.
Eric froze, halfway between our table and the stage. He looked at me, his eyes wide, pleading silently for me to save him from the very fire he had started.
"I said, sit down."
He slowly backed into his chair, his posture collapsing.
May you like
I turned my attention back to my cousin, who was standing on the stage, visibly trembling as the narrative she had carefully written in her head began to unravel.
"You're right about one thing, Ashley," I said, stepping away from the table. "I do care about my money. Which is why I spent the last six months ensuring that when this exact moment happened, Eric wouldn't have access to a single dime of it."
