Chapter 4: The Widow in White
Downstairs in the Grand Foyer.
Eleanor, still in her ruined, thousand-dollar wedding gown, sat gracefully on a velvet lobby sofa. The tears she had been crying earlier were completely gone. In fact, she looked remarkably bored.
Surrounding her were heavily armed FBI agents and local SWAT, currently aiming their weapons at Arthur's private security team. The standoff was tense, but Eleanor just picked at her manicured nails.
"Mrs. Sterling," Special Agent Vance approached her gently, holding out a silver thermal blanket. "Are you alright?"
"It's just 'Miss', Agent Vance. I suppose the marriage isn't quite valid if my father-in-law tried to have my groom murdered before the cake was cut," Eleanor said smoothly, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders to complete the victim aesthetic.
"We are securing the building now. Arthur Sterling won't hurt you."
Eleanor hid a smirk behind the silver foil. Arthur is finished, she thought.
The plan she had crafted with Julian had gone sideways, yes. Julian had gotten greedy. He had tried to steal the flash drive for himself, to use as leverage against both Arthur and her. But Eleanor always had a backup plan.
When Marcus had run down to the medical bay to check on his "best friend," Eleanor had slipped her personal bodyguard a quiet command. A silent, swift cut to Julian’s throat while the medics were distracted. Now, Julian was dead, Arthur was going down for the murder, and Marcus—sweet, gullible, idiot Marcus—was legally bound to her. She would control the Sterling Empire by Monday morning.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the VIP suite on the mezzanine level opened.
Arthur Sterling walked out to the balcony overlooking the lobby. He didn't look like a man about to be arrested. He looked like a king looking down at his peasants.
Beside him stood the waitress in the torn uniform.
"Arthur Sterling!" Agent Vance yelled through a bullhorn. "Step away from the hostage and come down with your hands up! You are under arrest for the murder of Julian Hayes!"
Arthur slowly leaned against the brass railing. He pressed a button on a remote control in his hand.
Immediately, the massive digital screen in the ballroom—the same one that had exposed Eleanor handing off the poison—flickered back to life. But it didn't show the ballroom. It showed a live feed of the hotel's medical bay.
Everyone in the lobby gasped.
On the screen, Julian was sitting up on a stretcher. His neck was heavily bandaged, bleeding through the gauze, but he was very much alive.
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Eleanor’s blood ran cold. He missed the artery, she realized with mounting horror. My idiot bodyguard missed the artery.
Arthur’s voice boomed over the hotel's PA system. "Agent Vance. I suggest you arrest the bride. She seems to have a habit of hiring incompetent assassins."
