Chapter 1 - The Flashing Lights
The distant wail of sirens quickly transformed into a deafening roar right outside the Whitmore Hotel.
Red and blue lights violently pierced through the sheer ballroom curtains.
The flashing colors danced across the horrified faces of the wedding guests.
Preston’s smug expression faltered for just a fraction of a second.
He quickly masked his panic with a condescending scoff.
He adjusted his perfectly tailored tuxedo jacket.
"You called the police over a minor family disagreement."
"You always were incredibly dramatic, Evelyn."
I ignored his pathetic attempt to gaslight me.
My entire universe was focused solely on the fragile, bleeding girl in my arms.
Sophie whimpered softly against my chest.
Her small hands were still clutching my ruined silk dress.
The heavy double doors of the ballroom suddenly burst open.
Four paramedics rushed in with a stretcher.
They were immediately followed by three Chicago police officers.
The crowd instinctively parted, whispering fiercely as the authorities marched down the aisle.
The lead officer, a tall man with a stern face, immediately spotted the blood.
He signaled the paramedics to hurry.
"What happened here?" the officer demanded loudly.
Before I could speak, my mother stepped forward.
She put on her most charming, upper-class smile.
"Officer, there has been a terrible misunderstanding."
"My grandson lost his temper after this little girl was caught stealing."
"It was an accident."
The officer looked at my mother in sheer disbelief.
He glanced at the solid oak menu board resting in a pool of blood.
Then he looked back at my mother.
"An accident with a twenty-pound piece of wood?" he asked coldly.
The paramedics gently lifted Sophie from my arms onto the stretcher.
One of them immediately applied pressure to the gash on her temple.
"She needs stitches and a full head scan immediately," the paramedic shouted.
I grabbed my purse, my hands still shaking uncontrollably.
Preston stepped right in front of the police officers.
"Listen, gentlemen, I am Preston Vance."
"I am the Vice President of Vance Financial."
"This is my wedding reception."
"I am willing to pay her medical bills, but I want my sister escorted off the property."
The audacity of his words made my blood boil.
I pointed a shaking, blood-stained finger directly at the blinking red light above the doors.
"Officer, I want that CCTV footage secured immediately."
"My brother didn't have an accident."
"He intentionally struck my eight-year-old daughter in the head."
"And he planted that phone on her to cover up his own psychotic behavior."
Preston laughed nervously, turning to the crowd.
"She’s hysterical," he announced smoothly.
The lead officer didn't laugh.
He unclipped his radio.
"Dispatch, send a crime scene unit to the Whitmore Hotel ballroom."
"And secure the manager’s office."
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"Nobody touches those security tapes."
Preston’s face suddenly drained of all its color.
