Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
The St. Regis Hotel grand ballroom was supposed to be filled with white orchids, candlelight, and three hundred of Boston’s political and financial elite.
Instead, panic was beginning to brew behind the velvet ropes.
Daniel Miller stood near the grand marble staircase in the hotel foyer, wearing a bespoke Tom Ford tuxedo, adjusting his black bow tie in the reflection of a gilded mirror. Beside him, Evelyn was sipping champagne, her emerald dress sparkling under the chandeliers.
"Where is she?" Evelyn hissed under her breath, glancing at her diamond watch. "The ceremony was supposed to start twenty minutes ago. The press photographers are getting restless."
"She probably got delayed by her hair and makeup team," Daniel said smoothly, though a faint line of tension had formed between his eyebrows. "You know how Claire gets when she’s emotional. She’s probably crying over some old framed photo of her dad."
"Well, tell her to dry her tears and get down here," Evelyn snapped. "The notary from Vanguard Global is waiting in the executive lounge downstairs. We need those signatures before the banks close at five."
Daniel pulled out his phone and dialed my number. It went straight to voicemail. He tried again. Voicemail.
Before he could dial a third time, the heavy oak doors of the VIP elevator opened, and his personal assistant, Marcus, came sprinting across the polished floor, his face pale as milk.
"Mr. Miller!" Marcus gasped, out of breath. "Sir, we have a huge problem!"
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. "Keep your voice down, Marcus. What problem?"
"The catering management just shut down the main dining hall," Marcus whispered frantically. "The hotel director said the primary account holder—Claire Reed—just issued a formal administrative hold on the entire wedding package!"
Evelyn’s champagne glass froze halfway to her lips. "What did you say?"
"She... she put a hold on the venue, ma'am!" Marcus stammered. "And that’s not all. Her security team just pulled her town car up to the side exit, retrieved her personal belongings, and drove off!"
Daniel’s calm, practiced demeanor shattered like cheap glass. He grabbed Marcus by the collar of his jacket. "Where did she go?!"
"I... I don't know, sir! Her phone is routed through her corporate firewall!"
Evelyn grabbed Daniel’s arm, her claws digging into his sleeve. "Daniel! Did she find out? Did someone talk?"
"No! Nobody talked!" Daniel snarled, whipping out his phone to check the remote tracking app he had secretly installed on my phone six months ago. The red blinking dot showed my location moving fast away from Beacon Hill, heading straight toward the industrial district.
"She’s heading to Harbor Street," Daniel muttered, his jaw clenching tightly. "She went back to the headquarters."
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"Why would she go to the docks on her wedding day?" Evelyn demanded, her voice rising in panic.
"It doesn't matter," Daniel hissed, pulling his car keys from his pocket. "The corporate proxy documents are already loaded into my briefcase. If she wants to play cold-feet games on Harbor Street, I’ll force her hand right there in her father's old office. Call the notary. Tell him we’re moving the meeting to the docklands."
