Chapter 7 - THE REHEARSAL CHARADE
The Cathedral of St. Philip was cavernous, its vaulted gothic ceilings and stained-glass windows bathing the nave in cool shades of crimson and cobalt. It was Friday evening, the night of the rehearsal dinner, and the air smelled of imported lilies, expensive wax candles, and underlying tension so thick it felt suffocating.
Naomi Herndon stood near the altar, wearing a floor-length emerald silk dress, directing the wedding planner with sharp, imperious gestures.
"No, the white calla lilies must frame the family pews on the right!" Naomi snapped, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "The right side is for the Herndon dynasty. Miss Wellman's guests can sit on the left."
Elijah Herndon stood near the vestibule, looking noticeably aged. Dark purple circles hung beneath his hollow eyes, and his hands twitched nervously as he repeatedly checked his gold pocket watch. He hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. The disappearance of Damian’s transport van, combined with Brianna’s empty room discovered earlier that morning, had driven the patriarch into a state of silent, manic paranoia.
When Gavin saw me enter the cathedral wearing a bespoke ivory cocktail dress, his face visibly relaxed. He rushed down the center aisle, wrapping his arms around me with desperate, suffocating intensity.
"You look breathtaking, Alyssa," he whispered into my ear, his breath smelling faintly of bourbon. "I'm so glad tomorrow is finally here. Everything’s been... chaotic today."
"I know, baby," I stroked the back of his neck, feeling the rigid tension in his muscles. "You’ve been working so hard. But after tomorrow, all our worries are over."
"Where is Brianna?" I asked innocently, glancing around the empty pews. "I thought she’d be at the rehearsal."
Gavin’s jaw tightened. "She... she had another severe medical episode yesterday. Her family had to take her back to Alabama for intensive treatment. It was very sudden."
Liar.
"Oh, that's terrible," I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest in simulated dismay. "Poor Brianna. At least we have each other."
Elijah walked over, forcing a stiff, aristocratic smile onto his sallow face. "Alyssa, my dear. Tomorrow is a historic day for both our families. I understand Gavin finalized the commercial documentation for the business merger?"
"Everything is signed, notarized, and loaded onto the corporate registry, Mr. Herndon," I replied with cool, professional confidence. "The moment the ceremony concludes tomorrow, the joint accounts unlock, and the asset consolidation becomes irreversible."
Elijah’s chest rose in an enormous, audible sigh of relief. He closed his eyes for a split second, looking like a condemned man who had just received a gubernatorial pardon. "You are a remarkable young woman, Alyssa. Truly an asset to our name."
An asset. Not a daughter. Not a human being. Just a balance sheet to plug his sinking ship.
During the rehearsal walkthrough, as the pastor instructed us on the vows, exchange of rings, and final pronouncement, my burner phone in my small evening clutch vibrated twice.
Marcus was inside the Buckhead mansion right now.
While the entire Herndon family was trapped inside the cathedral for the rehearsal and subsequent private dinner at the Piedmont Driving Club, Roman’s tactical cyber-forensics team, accompanied by Marcus and an off-duty federal marshal holding an emergency judicial search warrant, were accessing Elijah’s hidden wall safe.
I stood at the altar, holding Gavin’s hands, looking directly into his cold, blue eyes as the pastor droned on:
"Do you, Gavin, take Alyssa to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, until death do you part?"
"I do," Gavin smiled, his eyes gleaming with triumphant greed.
"And do you, Alyssa, take Gavin..."
I held his gaze, my fingers tightening around his with bone-crushing pressure disguised as romantic passion.
"I will give Gavin exactly what he deserves," I spoke clearly, my voice ringing through the empty sanctuary.
The pastor paused, slightly confused by my phrasing, but smiled warmly. "A lovely sentiment, Miss Wellman."
Gavin chuckled, squeezing my fingers back. "You always know how to make an impression, babe."
"You have no idea," I thought.
At 9:30 PM, the rehearsal dinner at the country club was in full swing. Crystal glasses clinked, champagne flowed, and Elijah raised a toast to "new beginnings, limitless prosperity, and the unbreakable bonds of family."
As the room applauded, I excused myself to the ladies' lounge. I locked the outer door, pulled out my encrypted phone, and opened Marcus’s secure video link.
Marcus appeared on screen. He was sitting in the backseat of his sedan, surrounded by stacks of blue-backed legal documents and three black hard drives. Behind his wire-rimmed glasses, Marcus looked like an executioner who had just sharpened his blade.
"We cracked the safe," Marcus reported, his voice vibrating with grim satisfaction. "It’s all here, Alyssa. The offshore Cayman debt agreements, the forged signatures on Brianna’s trust liquidations, the correspondence with the corrupt doctors at Pinecrest, and personal audio recordings Elijah kept of his business extortion schemes. The federal judge just signed the sealed arrest warrants for Elijah, Naomi, and Gavin Herndon."
"When do the marshals move?" I asked, my heart pounding a steady, rhythmic war drum.
"Tomorrow afternoon. Exactly at 2:30 PM," Marcus replied. "Right when the organ strikes the recessional march."
"No," I said, a cold, vicious smile spreading across my face. "Don't arrest them in the vestibule, Marcus. I want the screens in the cathedral sanctuary connected to your video feed. I want the entire congregation to see the evidence before the first handcuff clicks shut."
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Marcus paused, then let out a low, gravelly chuckle. "You're ruthless, Alyssa."
"They tried to turn me into Brianna, Marcus," I said coldly. "They tried to steal my life and lock Damian in a cage. They don't get a quiet arrest in the hallway. They get an execution in front of their peers."
