Arthur, now with Julian at his side, strode back toward us, his face a mask of furious determination. He had seen Marcus and me talking, and whatever desperate whispers he’d exchanged with Victoria had clearly pushed him past his breaking point.
He marched directly to a country club security guard who stood near the grand entrance, speaking in low, urgent tones. The guard, a burly man in a crisp uniform, nodded once.
Then, Arthur pointed at me.
The guard started walking towards our table. Arthur watched, a grim satisfaction forming on his features.
“Clara,” he announced loudly, his voice carrying across the hushed chatter of the nearby guests. “I think you’ve caused enough of a scene tonight.”
He gestured dismissively toward the exit.
“You and your… friend should leave. Immediately.”
The security guard approached, his presence radiating an unspoken threat. Another guard, alerted by Arthur’s urgent tone, began to move in as well, flanking Marcus.
“My daughter,” Arthur declared to anyone within earshot, his voice full of feigned sorrow, “has been going through a difficult time since her bankruptcy. A mental health relapse, I’m afraid. She’s not quite herself.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the guests closest to us. Their eyes, once curious, now held pity, some tinged with judgment. I could feel their assessment: the unstable, charity-case daughter making a scene at her sister’s wedding.
“We need to ensure she gets home safely,” Arthur added, playing the concerned patriarch.
The first security guard placed a hand gently, yet firmly, on my arm. “Ma’am, if you could please come with me.”
His grip was light, but his intent was clear. They were going to physically remove me.
I pulled my arm away, refusing to budge. My spine stiffened.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I stated, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.
Marcus, who had been silently observing the escalating drama, stepped forward. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a slim, blue folder. The simple, ordinary object seemed to hum with unspoken power.
He held it up, not to me, but to the room.
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