My Father Threatened to Cut My Tuition at My Sister's Gothic Wedding — Then I Revealed My $210K Salary and the Expired Estate Contract That Ruined Him
Clara, who had been staring at Krenshaw with wide, terrified eyes, finally found her voice. Her beautiful, lace-trimmed bridal gown suddenly seemed terribly out of place.
“Get out!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “How dare you interrupt my wedding! Father, make them leave!”
Arthur, however, was frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He couldn’t make them leave. He was trapped.
Krenshaw simply turned his cold gaze toward Clara. He reached inside his jacket, producing a folded piece of paper. He held it up, not quite unfolding it, but enough for the signatures to be visible.
“Miss Holloway,” Krenshaw stated, his voice still unnervingly calm. “I believe this concerns you directly.” He pointed to a specific line on the document. “Your father, Mr. Arthur Holloway, pledged a portion of your incoming dowry payments as partial interest coverage for his outstanding loan. A sum of two hundred thousand dollars, due upon the consummation of your marriage.”
The blood drained from Clara’s face. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, flickered from Krenshaw to Arthur.
“What?” she whispered, the word barely audible. “My dowry? Father, what is he talking about?”
Arthur finally found his voice, a pathetic stammer. “Clara, my dear, it was merely… a temporary measure. A contingency. To secure our future! To protect the family!”
Clara lunged at him, her manicured hands gripping his lapels. “You used my dowry? My marriage? To pay off your… thugs?”
Her face contorted, not in fear of Krenshaw, but in a burning fury at Arthur. The realization hit her like a physical blow. She had been a pawn, her marriage a transaction to shore up her father’s crumbling finances. Her blind complicity in gaslighting me, her willingness to let me suffer to protect her status, was suddenly irrelevant. She was just another asset to be leveraged.
“I still own the estate grounds!” Arthur blustered, turning his desperate gaze back to Krenshaw. “The deed is in my study. I can hand it over. Immediately. We can transfer the land as collateral, just as we agreed!”
He pointed vaguely toward the archive wing, his voice gaining a frantic edge. He truly believed he could still salvage this, that by offering the estate, he could appease Krenshaw and escape the immediate consequences. He was grasping at straws, oblivious to the fact that his most valuable card had been revoked.
Krenshaw’s eyes, however, remained fixed on me for a fraction of a second. A flicker of something, perhaps curiosity, perhaps a hint of recognition, passed through them. He had seen me with Thomas Gable. He had seen me in the library. He knew something was amiss.
The “misunderstanding” was now laid bare. Clara had believed her father was securing her future. Arthur believed he still held the deed to the manor. Both were about to be brutally disabused of their notions. The stage was set.
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