Chapter 4 - The Midnight Encounter at the Estate
The black Maybach pulled up to the curb of Mount Vernon Street at 10:45 PM.
The Beacon Hill brownstone was blazing with golden light. Through the tall, arched parlor windows, I could see crystal flutes raised in toasts, laughter rippling through the crowded room, and Graham standing beside a stunning blonde woman in a designer lace gown—Victoria Sterling.
My hands trembled on the leather upholstery of Vance’s car.
“You don't have to do this alone,” Vance said from the passenger seat beside me. He had taken off his overcoat, revealing the crisp, immaculate lines of his tuxedo. “My security team is already stationed at both exits. The Boston Police Financial Crimes division has a detective sitting three cars back.”
“I’m not afraid of Graham,” I said, looking at my reflection in the dark glass.
I smoothed the ivory satin of my wedding gown. The lace at the bodice was slightly frayed from the day’s work, but my posture was unbreakable. I reached into my bag, pulled out my dark crimson lipstick, and applied a fresh coat.
“Let’s go,” I whispered.
Vance stepped out first, extending his hand to help me from the low sedan. The driver opened the wrought-iron gate, and together, we walked up the stone steps of the Vale family estate.
The heavy mahogany front door was unlocked, attended by a uniformed butler who blanched the moment he recognized Vance Sterling.
“Mr. Sterling, sir... Mr. Vale said the family dinner was strictly—”
Vance didn't break stride. He brushed past the man with a flick of his wrist. “Step aside, Charles.”
I followed Vance into the grand foyer. The marble floors echoed with our footsteps as we walked straight toward the formal dining room where twenty-five of Boston’s elite were seated around a mahogany table laden with roasted lamb, truffles, and vintage Dom Pérignon.
Graham was standing at the head of the table, his arm draped affectionately over Victoria’s bare shoulders.
“To new beginnings,” Graham was saying, raising his crystal glass. “To the merger of vision, ambition, and the future of Boston’s waterfront.”
“To new beginnings,” I called out, my voice cutting through the room like a silver blade.
The laughter died instantly.
Twenty-five heads snapped toward the doorway. Graham froze, the champagne flute hovering an inch from his mouth. His color drained so fast he looked like a corpse in a tailored suit.
Evelyn Vale dropped her silver fork; it clattered loudly against her porcelain plate.
“June?” Graham stammered, his eyes darting frantically between me, my wedding dress, and Vance Sterling standing silently at my side. “What... what are you doing here?”
Victoria Sterling turned around, her blue eyes widening in bewilderment. “Vance? Who is this woman? Why is she wearing a bridal gown?”
May you like
I stepped forward into the chandelier light, my heels clicking deliberately against the parquet floor.
“I’m June Bellamy,” I said clearly, looking directly into Graham’s terrified eyes. “I’m the woman your husband was supposed to marry at four o’clock this afternoon in Ballroom C, right before he stole my property deed and ran upstairs to marry you.”
