Chapter 7 - THE WEDDING THAT NEVER HAPPENED
Blythe arrived at 10:30 the next morning in a cream coat and oversized sunglasses.
“Finally,” she said when she saw me. “I've been trying to reach Conrad.”
“Conrad is on leave.”
“Then get him back.”
“He is not your employee.”
She demanded to know why the wedding had been canceled. I explained that the contract allowed cancellation when false vendor information or fraudulent payment approvals were discovered.
“You're making a mistake.”
“Perhaps. The records will decide.”
She leaned closer. “You think you can ruin my life because I spilled a drink on your coat?”
“This began before the champagne. The invoices, forged approvals, and threats are what concern me.”
“You have no proof.”
I did not answer.
She turned toward Rosa. “Tell her what happened. Tell her I never asked for anything.”
Rosa remained still.
Blythe stepped closer. “You want to keep your job, don't you?”
I moved between them.
“Do not threaten my staff.”
Security escorted her out.
At noon, Detective Mercer called. The storage unit contained printed invoices, blank company letterhead, hotel access cards, and a laptop. They also found a seating chart with several names marked in red. One was mine.
The laptop contained a draft press statement accusing me of discrimination and financial misconduct.
Blythe had planned to use the wedding as a stage. If I refused to let her use the hotel, she would accuse me of destroying her wedding. If I allowed it, she would present herself as connected to the owner.
At 5:00 p.m., our public relations director issued a factual statement confirming that the event had been canceled because of contractual and financial irregularities.
That evening, Conrad called.
“She told me the wedding would still happen,” he said. “She said guests would arrive through the service entrance.”
I called security. We changed access codes and placed officers near the loading area.
At 8:12 p.m., a delivery van left a large box near the service entrance. Security did not touch it.
Police arrived within minutes.
Inside were printed invitations, blank hotel key cards, and documents bearing my forged signature.
May you like
Blythe had not given up.
She was preparing something for Saturday.
