Chapter 3: The Groom’s Folly
Julian, sensing the shift in wind, finally moved. He tried to grab Clara’s arm. "Clara, baby, I didn't know! My mother… she’s crazy. We can just walk away from this, right? We have our own accounts."
Clara looked at him—the man who had watched her be bullied for three years, the man who let his mother stain her wedding dress without lifting a finger. She saw him not as a husband, but as a coward.
"We?" Clara asked, her voice steady. She pulled her arm away. "There is no 'we,' Julian. There was only the 'street rat' you pretended to love."
Arthur stepped between them, his gaze cutting into Julian. "The accounts you speak of, boy? The ones you think are yours? Those were the first things I liquidated this morning. Every cent in the Sterling-Vance trust was embezzled from my daughter’s inheritance. It’s back in my hands."
May you like
Julian’s face went slack. "What?"
"You're broke," Arthur said simply. "And because of the contracts you signed to secure your mother’s position on the board, you’re also liable for the fraud. The police are waiting in the lobby."
