The sound of my reinforced medical brace cracking against the Carrara marble floor was louder than the string quartet’s dying notes

By 7:30 AM, the barrier island was bathed in that soft, golden Carolina sunshine that usually makes destination weddings look like perfume commercials.

Through the hospital window, I could see the Spanish moss swaying in the coastal breeze. Dr. Thorne had discharged me into the custody of an elite private physical therapy team dispatched directly by Merrick’s grandfather, Judge Vance. They had fitted me with an ultra-low-profile, high-grade medical exoskeleton brace made of aircraft-grade titanium, custom-molded to my torso. Over it, I wore a tailored, floor-length charcoal blazer dress with reinforced seams, hiding the hardware completely.

I leaned on a pair of carbon-fiber forearm crutches, testing my weight. My ribs throbbed with every shallow breath, but the titanium cage held my vertebrae locked in an unbreakable vice.

"You're cleared for transport, Ms. Mercer," the physical therapist said softly. "The car is downstairs."

Down in the VIP bay, a black armored Cadillac Escalade waited with its engine idling. The driver opened the rear door, where Merrick sat waiting, a cup of black coffee in the console and a thick stack of printed legal filings on his lap.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as I slid into the leather seat with a stifled grunt of pain.

"Like I was dropped out of a second-story window by someone who shares half my DNA," I answered. "What's the status at the resort?"

"Chaos," Merrick replied with a cool, grim smile. "Deline woke up at six to start hair and makeup. She has four videographers in her suite right now capturing her 'bridal morning.' She posted an Instagram story thirty minutes ago with a black-and-white picture of a candle, captioned: Praying for my sweet sister’s recovery while I prepare to walk down the aisle."

My jaw tightened. "She's monetizing the fall."

"She already has fifty thousand likes on it," Merrick said, handing me his tablet. "Kea edited a fifteen-second clip of you tumbling off the ledge, stripped out Deline's voice, added dramatic string music, and posted it to TikTok. It’s sitting at 1.2 million views right now. The caption claims you fainted and Deline tried to catch you."

I stared at the screen. The comments were an endless river of suburban sympathy:

“Oh my god, Deline is an angel!”

“Her sister almost ruined her wedding day, but look at her grace!”

“Sending prayers to the bride, she must be so traumatized!”

"They really think they won," I murmured, watching the live view counter tick upward by thousands every second.

"They think they control the narrative because they control the internet," Merrick said. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek, thumb-sized brass USB drive. "They forgot that my grandfather owns four television networks, and our maritime holding company controls the primary fiber-optic terminal on this island."

"What are you doing, Merrick?"

"The wedding ceremony is scheduled for eleven o'clock on the oceanfront lawn," he said, turning his head to look at me, his gaze unyielding. "Two hundred and fifty guests are already checking into their seats. The national press is covering the union because of the Vance-Mercer corporate merger. My father has invited three United States senators."

"You're letting her walk down the aisle?"

"I’m letting her put on the dress," Merrick replied, his voice chillingly smooth. "I’m letting your father walk her right up to the altar. Because when an empire falls, Sloan, you don't take it down in a quiet hospital hallway. You let it collapse in broad daylight, in front of everyone who ever enabled it."

The Escalade accelerated, clearing the bridge toward the resort gates. The security guards at the perimeter checkpoint recognized the Vance family crest on the windshield and snapped to attention, waving us through without stopping.

I gripped my forearm crutches, feeling the cold composite under my palms.

For ten years, I had built bridges, inspected cranes, and calculated failure tolerances down to the millimeter. I knew exactly how much stress a beam could take before it buckled.