The moment passes.
"Then let us continue." Father Francis says, and I taste copper where I've bitten my tongue hard enough to draw blood."Vivianne Amelie Faulks, will you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and obey him, forsaking all others, keeping only unto him for as long as you both shall live?"
The words stick in my throat like broken glass.
Everyone is watching. Waiting. The silence stretches again, but this time it's wrong, uncomfortable.
"Vivianne." Prescott's fingers dig into my back. A warning.
I open my mouth. Close it. Can't make the words come.
"She's nervous." He tells the crowd with a laugh that doesn't reach his eyes. "Stage fright."
Sympathetic chuckles ripple through the assembly.
"Vivianne." Father Francis prompts gently. "You need to answer."
I look at him—this priest who has known me since birth, who should be protecting me instead of facilitating my sale—and still can't speak.
Father stands in the front row, his face darkening from pink to red. A warning.
Prescott's grip becomes painful. Another warning.
"I—"
The sound that splits the air isn't my voice.
It's an alarm. Piercing. Overwhelming. The kind that means something has gone catastrophically wrong.
For a moment, everyone freezes. Then chaos.
"Is that the fire alarm?" someone shouts.
"The security system—" Donovan Price has his radio out, barking orders. "Code Black. I repeat, Code Black. All units to the main house."
Father is on his feet, his face transforming from ceremonial father to the cold businessman I really know. "The vault." He snarls, and I know immediately—Paul did it. He actually did it.
"We finish this now." Prescott grabs my wrist hard enough to leave marks. "Say the words."
"The ceremony must pause." Father Francis protests. "If there's danger?—"
"There's no danger." Father snaps, striding toward the altar. "Just a security breach. Continue."
But the guests are already moving, some running toward the house, others backing away from it. Phones are out everywhere, recording the chaos. The perfect society wedding has become a scandal in real-time.
"Vivianne, say the words." Prescott commands, shaking me slightly.
"No."
It comes out quiet, but in the spaces between alarm wails, it's perfectly clear.
"What did you say?"
"I said no."
His face contorts, the handsome mask slipping to reveal the monster underneath. "You don't get to say no."
"Actually, she does."
