Chapter 3

Jenna's face flushed bright red with fury. She opened her mouth to snap back, but her mother instantly clamped a hand over her mouth, hushing her.

My aunt, a woman who had never held back her tongue a day in her life back home, didn't say a single word. She just quietly unpinned her corsage.

Nobody in my family wanted to make the scene any uglier than it already was.

Shawn whipped out his laptop. "Watch closely, everyone."

He booted up a software application, and a high-resolution map appeared on the screen. He zoomed in once, then twice, until two distinct pulsing dots appeared in the center of the hotel layout.

"This is the live monitoring software synced directly to the electronic tracking monitors. Every activated unit tracks the wearer's movements in real time and projects them right here. During the reception, I'll have this feed broadcast live on the hotel's secondary screen."

The two tiny dots sat motionless on the map. Shawn enlarged the labels, bolded the text, and turned them a glaring blood-red hue.

My parents' names floated side by side on the display.

"I also had a shock feature custom-built into the software," Shawn added, looking over at me with the smug satisfaction of a man who believed he'd already won. "You just monitor the tracking dots, and if anyone wearing a band strays into an unauthorized area, you press a button on the remote, and it delivers a targeted electrical pulse. It's just a low-level current to the wrist—nothing dangerous.

"It's just a helpful little reminder not to start pocketing things that don't belong to them."

He handed out a bag of single-button remotes to the guests on Giselle's side of the family.

"Don't take it personally," Shawn said, clapping me on the shoulder with patronizing warmth. "If your family behaves themselves, nobody's going to hit the button. But let's be real—some people just have sticky fingers, and you can never be too careful.

"My stolen watch was only worth 60,000 dollars, so I can eat that loss. But some of our other guests are carrying six-figure handbags. I'm not going to alienate high-society people just to spare your family's feelings."

Just then, Giselle's young nephew snagged one of the remotes and gleefully smashed the button.

A sharp jolt racked my parents' bodies. Cold sweat broke out across their skin, but neither of them made a sound.

Treating the remote like a shiny new toy, the kid giggled and slammed the button five times in rapid succession.

My groomsmen couldn't watch the torture for another second. They surged forward, snatching the remote out of his hand.

"It's supposed to be a happy day. Let's not fight," Dad said, his voice hoarse. "He's just a kid. He doesn't know any better."

Mom's eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears, but she refused to let a single drop fall in front of these people. She knew that if she broke down, they would only tear into us harder.

The driver kept calling out about the schedule. The event company was tearing down the decorations inside, but they hadn't yet informed the driver that the wedding had been officially called off.

"If Giselle doesn't step out of that car, this wedding isn't happening!" Donna yelled. "My daughter paid a fortune for an astrologer to pick this exact auspicious hour!

"Giselle took this union very seriously—inviting your family at all was her way of giving you immense face! Without her, your family couldn't even afford to walk through the front doors of a five-star hotel!

"She makes one tiny request and you won't even agree to it, and you still say she's not being difficult?"

Giselle sat perfectly still in the bridal car, unmoved.

"Roy, don't let me down." Her voice cracked. "Don't forget how hard you worked to marry me."

My hand was already on the ring box in my pocket. I took one step forward.

Shawn immediately waved his camera crew to follow. "Get ready to start shooting. And make sure you get a family photo."

"Don't worry," one of the photographers said, not bothering to hide his contempt. "You should've told me sooner that the groom's family has sticky fingers. I would've had my guys keep a closer eye on our gear.

"My equipment's worth close to 100,000 dollars, and my camera bag alone is a few thousand. If anything goes missing, who's going to pay for it?"

Another photographer aimed his camera straight at my face. "Get a clear shot. Once we have the photos, I'll post them in the industry group so everyone knows to steer clear.

"Don't take jobs from this family. It's not worth losing your stuff over a paycheck."

I took a second step forward. Then my phone buzzed with a message from the wedding coordinator.

"Everything at the reception has been cleared out. The rest has been handled exactly as you requested."