“Ms. Elena,” Marcus said, his voice smooth and professional. “Is everything to your liking? The first course is being plated as we speak.”
“Marcus,” I said. My voice was perfectly steady, chillingly calm, and completely devoid of any emotion. “This is Elena. I am currently sitting in my car in your driveway. I have just been physically assaulted, struck in the face, by the groom, Liam Vance.”
There was a sharp, audible intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Ms. Elena… my god, are you alright? Do you need me to call the authorities or paramedics?”
“I am fine, Marcus,” I replied smoothly. “But I am leaving the premises immediately. More importantly, I am officially, permanently revoking my financial authorization for this event.”
“Revoking…?” Marcus stammered, his professional composure slipping.
“Yes,” I stated clearly. “Cancel the open bar immediately. Cancel the dinner service. Tell your staff to stop plating the food. If you serve that room one more drop of water, one more piece of bread, it will not be paid for by my accounts.”
“Ms. Elena, are you absolutely sure?” Marcus asked, his voice tight with panic. “The guests are seated. They are waiting for the first course. This will cause an unprecedented scene.”
“I am positive, Marcus,” I said, my tone as hard as diamond. “I am releasing the hold on my card right now. Present the groom with the final, itemized bill for the deposit and the services rendered thus far. If he cannot pay it in full, immediately, evict them from the property.”
I didn’t wait for him to argue. I hung up the phone.
I opened my highly secure banking application on my phone screen.
First, I selected the American Express account linked to the venue. I didn’t just lock it; I reported the card compromised and revoked the pending authorization for the Astoria Estate.
Second, I navigated to the joint checking account Richard used to pay his personal expenses and his failing business’s minor overhead—an account funded entirely by my monthly transfers.
I froze the account. I transferred the remaining balance back into my private, sole-proprietor trust.
Third, I opened my auto-insurance policy portal and removed Liam’s luxury sports car from my coverage, effective immediately.
I blocked Richard’s phone number. I blocked Liam’s phone number.
I put the Mercedes in drive and slowly pulled out of the estate’s long, winding driveway, heading toward a luxury hotel in the city center where I would spend the night.
Back inside the grand ballroom, the string quartet, unaware of the impending doom, had struck up a cheerful, upbeat tune to cover the awkward silence following the assault. The two hundred guests were murmuring amongst themselves, raising their empty crystal glasses, eagerly waiting for the expensive champagne to be poured and the filet mignon to arrive.
They had absolutely no idea that the financial guillotine had just dropped, and the heavy, rusted blade was milliseconds away from hitting the head table.
