His recorded voice echoed through the ballroom.
Smile, Claire. Don’t embarrass me.
Then:
Good girl.
Then the hallway recording.
If she thinks she can ruin today, remind her whose house she’s coming home to tonight.
No one laughed.
Patricia’s face drained of color.
Derek rushed toward the DJ booth.
“Turn that off!”
Two uniformed officers entered through the ballroom doors.
Behind them was my attorney, Melissa Grant.
Derek stopped.
The entire room fell into dead silence.
Melissa approached me.
“You all right?”
“I am now.”
Derek stared between us.
“What the hell is this?”
Melissa turned to him.
“Mr. Hayes, your wife contacted my office regarding suspected financial fraud and domestic violence several weeks ago.”
Patricia snapped, “Financial fraud? That’s absurd.”
Melissa opened a folder.
“An application was submitted yesterday requesting a two-million-dollar credit facility against assets belonging solely to Claire Morgan.”
Derek’s expression shifted.
“That was paperwork for our marriage.”
“No,” I said. “It was fraud.”
His father slowly lowered his glass.
Derek pointed at me.
“You set me up.”
“No. I gave you opportunities to stop.”
“You’re my wife!”
“Not for much longer.”
Patricia stepped forward.
“This family has spent thousands on this wedding!”
I nearly laughed.
“You spent my deposit.”
She froze.
I continued.
“The venue, catering, flowers, honeymoon, and your jewelry were charged to an account my financial team has now frozen.”
Derek’s eyes widened.
“You can’t freeze our money.”
“Our money?”
I reached beneath the table and pulled out another folder.
“The house is held by my trust. The investment account is mine. My company shares remain separate property.”
He stared at me.
“And the prenup you signed contains a misconduct provision your own attorney negotiated.”
His face turned gray.
