Chapter 9 - The Rehearsal Hall of Shame and Ashley’s Unraveling
By 1:00 PM, the grand ballroom of the Four Seasons in downtown Minneapolis was packed with nearly two hundred confused, restless guests.
Preston’s extended family from New York, Boston, and Greenwich were dressed in bespoke tuxedos and designer evening gowns, sipping dry martinis and whispering among themselves near the ice sculptures.
Arthur Vance had already taken the stage.
He did not make a scene. He did not raise his voice. He simply tapped a crystal glass with a silver spoon, looked out at the room of two hundred elite financiers, judges, and corporate executives, and delivered a sixty-second statement that destroyed thirty years of the Vance family’s social standing in Minnesota.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Arthur announced with chilling composure. “I regret to inform you that the wedding between my son, Preston Vance, and Miss Ashley Vance has been permanently cancelled. It has come to our attention that the Vance family has engaged in severe, material misrepresentations regarding their character, their financial integrity, and their ethical standards. The reception here this afternoon has been converted into a private family brunch courtesy of Vance Bancorp. Please enjoy the hospitality, but do not expect a ceremony.”
Arthur stepped down from the stage, took his wife’s arm, and walked out of the room.
Ten minutes later, the double doors of the ballroom burst open.
Ashley, still wearing her stained winter coat over her disheveled robe, her hair a bird's nest of half-curled extensions, stumbled into the room like a ghost wandering into a royal banquet.
Behind her came Robert and Linda, their heads bowed, looking like criminals being led to the gallows.
The room of two hundred high-society guests went dead silent.
Ashley looked around, her eyes frantic, searching for Preston.
“Preston?!” she called out, her voice cracking across the crystal chandeliers. “Preston, where are you?!”
Aunt Clara—the very same aunt who had started the standing ovation when Ashley tore my invitation the night before—walked over, her face twisted in shock and embarrassment.
“Ashley? What is the meaning of this?” Aunt Clara demanded, clutching her pearls. “Arthur Vance just told the entire room that your family is broke! He said there was no estate! He said you were kicked out by the police! Is this true?!”
Ashley looked at her aunt, the very person whose validation she had sought by humiliating me.
“It was Elena!” Ashley screamed, her voice echoing off the walls, drawing every pair of eyes in the room. “Elena cancelled the credit cards! Elena stole the wedding! She did this to us!”
Uncle Greg stepped forward, his face red with anger. “Elena? Elena was the one paying for Weisetta Estate?! You told us your father bought out the grounds for the weekend! You let us make fun of her last night! You made us clap while you threw her out!”
“Because she’s miserable!” Ashley shrieked, losing the last shreds of her sanity. “She’s boring and plain and she thinks she’s better than me just because she has money! She was supposed to pay for it! That’s what she’s for!”
The entire ballroom recoiled.
The socialites from Greenwich exchanged horrified glances. Preston’s college friends shook their heads in utter disgust. The string quartet stopped playing entirely.
Ashley stood in the center of that grand room, surrounded by crystal, silver, and two hundred of the wealthiest people in the state, and for the first time in her life, she saw the reflection of what she actually was:
May you like
A hollow, entitled parasite whose host had finally walked away.
She let out a long, blood-curdling scream, dropped to the carpet, and buried her face in the floor as the guests slowly, quietly, began picking up their coats and walking toward the exits.
Related Stories
