Chapter 5 - The War for the Wedding
By Thursday afternoon, thirty-six hours before the scheduled ceremony, the Sterling family empire was in complete, unmitigated chaos.
The news of Eleanor Sterling’s arrest had leaked to the local press by breakfast. Headlines like "SOCIETY MATRIARCH ARRESTED FOR MALTREATING BRIDE" and "PLASTER PRISON: THE WESTCHESTER COUNTRY CLUB SCANDAL" were plastered across local news outlets and social media channels.
I sat on the wide, sunlit sofa in Uncle David’s guest house, my leg propped up on three velvet cushions. The burn dressings had been replaced with clean, white medical wraps, but the deep, aching throb in my calf muscle remained constant.
Beside me sat Arthur, his laptop open on his knees, his phone ringing continuously on the coffee table.
"That was Aunt Beatrice again," Arthur said, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. He let out a bitter, exhausted sigh. "She says if we don't drop the charges by five o'clock today, the entire father’s side of the family is boycotting the wedding."
"Let them boycott," I said quietly, taking a sip of mint tea. "Half of them stood by and watched her humiliate me for three years anyway."
"I know," Arthur said. He closed his laptop with a heavy sigh, leaning over to rest his forehead against my knee, being careful to avoid my injured leg. "Claire... I feel like I'm waking up from a twenty-year coma. Looking back at how she treated my dad, how she treated my sister before she moved to Oregon... she’s spent her entire life breaking people down so she could control them."
"She almost broke me, Arthur," I said softly, reaching down to run my fingers through his dark hair. "If your uncle hadn't been at that dinner... if he hadn't noticed the swelling... I would have walked down that aisle in that plaster, bleeding into my shoe, just to keep the peace."
"You're never keeping the peace for her again," Arthur swore, looking up at me with tears in his eyes. "Ever."
The heavy wooden front door of the guest house swung open without a knock.
In walked Victoria Sterling—Arthur’s elder sister. She had flown in from Portland on a red-eye flight the moment she heard the news. She carried a large paper bag from a local deli and a thick, yellow legal folder.
"Vicky?" Arthur stood up, surprised. "You're here?"
Victoria set the deli bag on the counter and walked straight over to the sofa. She took one look at my bandaged leg, her face hardening into an expression of pure, razor-sharp fury that looked remarkably like her mother's—except hers was driven by protection, not cruelty.
"How is it?" Victoria asked, kneeling beside my sofa and gently touching the clean edge of my bandage.
"It's second-degree burns and soft tissue trauma," I said. "No permanent muscle damage, thankfully. But I can't put weight on it for at least three weeks."
Victoria turned to Arthur, her eyes flashing. "Did Mom actually use construction plaster from the greenhouse?"
"Yes," Arthur said.
Victoria let out a long, whistle through her teeth. "God, she really went full psycho this time, didn't she? When she locked me in the attic for three days before my high school graduation because I refused to wear her mother's dress, I thought that was her peak. But this... this is felony territory."
"Wait," Arthur stopped, staring at his sister. "She locked you in the attic?"
"Oh, please, Arthur, wake up," Victoria spat, throwing her hands in the air. "Mom has been using physical isolation and financial blackmail on this family since Dad had his first stroke. Why do you think I moved three thousand miles away and changed my last name on my design firm?"
Victoria pulled a document from her yellow folder, slapping it onto the coffee table.
"What is that?" I asked.
"It's the Master Event Cancellation Contract for St. Jude’s Church and the Grand Ballroom at the Plaza," Victoria said with a grim smile. "Eleanor had her executive assistant try to cancel the entire wedding this morning from her jail cell. She claimed Arthur was mentally incapacitated and that the wedding was off."
Arthur’s face turned bright red. "She tried to cancel our wedding?!"
"Key word: tried," Victoria corrected smoothly. "She forgot that Dad put the original venue deposits in a joint trust that I have co-trustee authority over. I called the rector at St. Jude’s two hours ago. The church is locked down. Only people on our security list are getting through the doors on Saturday."
May you like
She looked at Arthur, then at me.
"So," Victoria said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are we going to sit here crying over a crazy old woman in a county jail cell, or are we going to figure out how my sister-in-law is going to walk down that aisle looking like an absolute queen?"
