They moved quickly toward me, their faces hard and unreadable.
I stopped in the middle of the floor, my heart threatening to explode from my chest. If they dragged me out now, if they threw me into a van before the press could ask questions, I was dead.
I gripped the envelope, bracing myself for the impact, preparing to fight like an absolute animal.
But the guards didn't grab me.
They walked right past me.
I turned, stunned, as the four massive men stormed the stage, moving with terrifying speed directly toward Julian and Isabella.
The entire ballroom descended into stunned, paralyzing silence as Marcus’s men reached the stage. Isabella took a frantic step back, her red dress swishing violently. She looked from me to the guards, her eyes wild with incomprehension.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked, slapping at the hand of the nearest guard. "I said grab her! Grab Chloe!"
The largest guard, a towering bald man with a thick beard, didn't even blink. He reached out and locked his massive hands onto Isabella’s shoulders. With a single, fluid motion, he and the second guard drove her forcefully forward, forcing her off the small elevated stage and down onto the white marble floor of the ballroom.
Isabella hit the ground hard, a startled scream ripping from her throat. Her beautiful red dress tangled around her legs as the two men pinned her face-down against the cold stone, their knees securely planting into the floor beside her struggling form.
I stood ten feet away, my chest heaving, the heavy envelope trembling in my hands.
Marcus stepped out from the shadows near the exit. He wasn't looking at Isabella. He was looking at me. He gave me a slow, almost imperceptible nod.
Two hours ago, before I sent the mass email, I had forwarded a private copy of the medical report and a photograph of my father's broken watch directly to Marcus. Marcus had been my father’s most loyal employee for twenty years. Julian thought he bought Marcus’s loyalty with a pay raise. He didn't realize that Marcus’s loyalty to Arthur Vance wasn't for sale. Once Marcus saw the undeniable proof that my father hadn't died naturally, his allegiance snapped back to me instantly.
The guests were completely frozen in shock. Some were backing away in horror, pulling out their phones to record.
Isabella thrashed violently on the floor. Her elegant facade had completely disintegrated into feral rage. She bucked against the immense weight of the guards, blood from a small scrape on her chin smearing against the immaculate white marble beneath her.
She twisted her neck, glaring up at the terrified crowd with eyes that looked genuinely demonic.
"You will all pay for this!" Isabella screamed, her voice tearing through the cavernous room, raw and terrifying. "We made this company! Arthur was weak! You'll all pay!"
Her words weren't a defense. They were a confession.
Hearing her insult my father, hearing the sheer, unrepentant arrogance in her voice as she lay pinned to the floor after murdering him, broke something fundamental inside me. The fear evaporated, replaced by a dark, blinding, consuming rage.
I dropped the envelope of evidence onto the floor.
I took three slow, heavy steps toward a nearby catering table draped in white linen. The room watched me in terrified silence. My eyes never left Isabella’s face. I reached out and wrapped my fingers around the thick, heavy neck of a massive crystal decanter filled with bourbon.
The crystal was incredibly heavy, cold, and solid. It felt like a weapon.
I stepped away from the table, my black gown trailing behind me. I stopped right in front of Isabella. The two guards holding her didn't move. They simply looked up at me, giving me complete access to the woman who had destroyed my family.
I looked down at her. I could see the panic finally break through the anger in her eyes. She was helpless. For the first time in her life, her manipulative games couldn't protect her.
"Chloe..." Isabella choked out, struggling weakly.
I gritted my teeth, a guttural sound of pure grief rising in my throat. I planted my feet and hoisted the massive crystal decanter high above my right shoulder. The muscles in my arms burned. I envisioned bringing it down, shattering the heavy glass directly across her face, silencing her vicious, venomous lies forever. I wanted her to feel a fraction of the violence my father felt in his final moments.
"No one can save you now!" I screamed, the absolute raw fury of my betrayal exploding into the silent room.