Chapter 3: The Fall of the Best Man
Chad stood to the side, his face a mottled shade of purple. The audacity of the grandmother’s presence had been a personal affront to his delicate, aristocratic sensibilities. He sneered, emboldened by his own perceived social standing.
"Julian, honestly," Chad scoffed, checking his watch. "Even if she is your grandmother, she’s a mess. Look at her. She’s dragging the prestige of this entire wedding into the dirt. Send her to the back, get the ceremony moving. You have investors waiting."
Julian slowly stood up. He didn't look at his grandmother; he looked at Chad. It was the same look he gave a CEO before he dismantled their company.
"Chad," Julian said, his voice unnervingly calm. "You spent the last three months telling me my grandmother was dead. You spent the last three months telling me that my 'roots' were a liability and that I should embrace the 'old money' circle you introduced me to. You wanted me to hide where I came from so you could keep using my name for your social climbing."
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"I... I was protecting your brand," Chad stammered, sensing the shift in the room's energy.
"You were protecting your own ego," Julian countered. He pulled a folder from his inner pocket—a folder he had been carrying for weeks, waiting for a reason to open it. "This is the audit of the firm you convinced me to merge with. The one where you’ve been skimming off the top to pay for your gambling debts. Security? Escort Mr. Chad out. And inform the authorities that he’s under federal investigation."
