Standing before the altar, my fiancé suddenly sneered, stepped hard onto my $200k bridal train, and ripped the silk gown clean off my back: "Marrying you was only to harvest your bone marrow for my true love." The 500 elite guests gasped. Instead of crying, I delivered a vicious roundhouse kick into his ribs, sending him flying off the stage. Grabbing the microphone with my bare, bloodied hands, I signaled the sound booth: "Play file 04." What appeared on the LED wall exposed a 10-year dark secret that ruined his entire bloodline on live television!

Dozens of tactical officers dressed in dark-grey body armor, wearing federal tactical gear labeled FBI and INTERPOL, poured into the cathedral with rifles raised.

"Nobody move! Hands where we can see them!" a tactical commander shouted through a bullhorn. "This is a federal raid! The Vance Financial Syndicate is officially under asset seizure!"

Pandemonium erupted in the cathedral.

High-society women screamed, scrambling over pews in their designer gowns. Corporate billionaires dropped to their knees, raising their hands in panic as armed agents swept through the aisles, securing the exits and locking down the venue.

Harrison Vance tried to back away toward the altar’s side door, but four federal agents instantly tackled him to the ground, slamming his face into the marble floor and pulling his arms behind his back in heavy steel cuffs.

"You can't touch me! I have diplomatic immunity! I own the governor!" Harrison roared, his pristine tuxedo covered in dust and sweat. "Call my attorneys!"

"Your attorneys were arrested twenty minutes ago at their Manhattan offices, Mr. Vance," the Lead Special Agent declared, stepping forward and pulling a thick, official federal warrant from his jacket. "Every bank account, property, yacht, and offshore trust tied to the Vance name has been frozen under the RICO Act and International Biological Crimes Protocols."

I stood in the center of the aisle, cold, serene, and completely unbothered by the chaos around me.

Preston, still groaning in agony on the floor with broken ribs, looked up at me with eyes full of pathetic, desperate tears. He reached out a trembling, blood-stained hand, trying to grab the hem of my ripped corset.

"Victoria... please..." Preston whimpered, his voice cracking. "I... I was forced into it... My father made me do it! I really loved you... Please, tell them to stop! You're my wife..."

I looked down at his outstretched hand, then slowly brought my bare foot down, stomping hard directly onto his fingers.

CRACK.

Preston let out a blood-curdling shriek of pain, pulling his crushed hand back to his chest as tears streamed down his bruised face.

"I never signed the marriage certificate, Preston," I whispered, leaning down so only he could hear my voice above the screams of the crowd. "The man who stood at the altar wasn't a real bishop. He was an actor I hired two weeks ago. You didn't marry an heiress today. You signed your own death warrant."

Before Preston could process my words, two federal agents grabbed him by his collar, dragging him upright despite his broken ribs, snapping heavy iron shackles onto his wrists and ankles.

As the agents began dragging Preston toward the exit, a young woman in a hospital gown and a trench coat broke through the security line near the side entrance, gasping for air.

It was Sienna Miller—the 'true love' Preston had torn my gown for.

"Preston!" Sienna cried out, her eyes frantic as she saw the federal agents and the flashing red and blue lights outside the cathedral windows. "What's happening?! Where is the money?! They just seized my apartment in Miami! The bank wiped my cards!"

Preston looked at Sienna, his face contorted in rage and betrayal. "Sienna! Help me! Call the private pilot!"

"The private pilot is currently in federal custody, Miss Miller," the Lead Agent said, stepping in front of her and snapping another pair of handcuffs onto her slender wrists. "Sienna Miller, you are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder, biological trafficking, and corporate fraud."

Sienna’s fake, innocent persona instantly vanished. She whipped her head toward me, her face twisting into a mask of pure, vicious venom.

"You bitch!" Sienna screamed, trying to lunge at me, but the agents held her back effortlessly. "You ruined everything! You were supposed to die on that operating table! You were supposed to be our meal ticket!"

I walked up to Sienna, reaching out my hand to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"You wanted my bone marrow, Sienna?" I said with a terrifyingly calm smile. "Don't worry. Where you're going—in a maximum-security federal penitentiary for the next thirty years—you'll have plenty of time to contemplate your health."

I turned my back on them as the agents dragged Preston, Sienna, and Harrison Vance out into the glaring rain, where dozens of police cruisers, federal vans, and news helicopters were waiting.

The live television feed broadcasted to sixty million households worldwide showed the great Vance family being tossed into the back of prison vans like common criminals.

I stood alone near the altar, holding the microphone, looking out at the remaining five hundred elite guests who were sitting in dead, terrified silence, afraid to even breathe.