Dalton’s smile faltered slightly. He yanked it harder, his bicep flexing under his tuxedo jacket. The heavy glass rattled in its frame, but the lock held firm.
“The caterers must have accidentally locked it from the inside,” Dalton muttered to Nicole, trying to maintain his composure as the crowd of two hundred guests began to pile up on the patio behind them, murmuring in confusion.
Dalton knocked sharply on the thick glass. “Hey! Open up!” he shouted, his tone laced with arrogant annoyance.
The shadows inside the dimly lit living room shifted.
A massive, broad-shouldered man in a black suit—Vance—stepped forward into the light. He didn’t smile. He didn’t reach for the lock. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression entirely blank.
Dalton glared at him through the glass. “Hey! Who the hell are you? Open the door! I’m the owner of this house!”
Vance didn’t speak. He simply raised his right hand and tapped a thick, calloused finger directly onto the white laminated paper taped to the inside of the glass.
Nicole, the radiant new bride, stepped closer to the glass. She squinted, her eyes scanning the bold, black text of the legal notice.
“Notice of Transfer of Property,” Nicole read aloud, her voice trembling slightly as confusion gave way to a creeping, icy dread. “This property has been legally sold by the sole owner, Sierra Vance, to Apex Holdings Corporation. All prior occupancies are terminated. Unauthorized personnel are strictly forbidden from entering the premises.”
The color drained from Nicole’s face so rapidly she looked as though she might faint. She took a staggering step backward, as if the glass door had suddenly become electrified.
The exquisite, $5,000 custom wedding bouquet in her hands slipped from her grasp, tumbling to the stone patio, crushing delicate white orchids beneath her designer heels.
