The next day, they held their wedding in a glass ballroom paid for with money they thought they stole from me.
Victor wore a white tuxedo.
Clara wore her mother’s pearl necklace.
That was the moment mercy disappeared.
At 3:12 p.m., Denise filed the emergency injunction.
At 3:19, Detective Morales received the completed fraud evidence.
At 3:26, I sent Clara one message.
Enjoy the music while it lasts.
The police arrived before the wedding cake was cut.
At first, guests smiled, assuming it was part of the entertainment.
Then Detective Morales stepped forward.
“Clara Whitaker?”
The room froze.
I entered behind him in a wheelchair wearing a dark suit, bandages still visible beneath my collar.
Clara’s face drained of color.
“Dad?”
Victor laughed nervously.
“This is pathetic.”
“No,” I answered calmly. “Pathetic was forging legal paperwork with the wrong middle initial.”