Chapter 5 - The Empty Altar
At 5:00 PM on Saturday—the exact hour Ethan and Bianca were supposed to be exchanging vows in front of five hundred high-society guests at St. Patrick’s Cathedral—the venue was completely empty.
Instead of white floral arrangements, soaring organ music, and champagne toasts, the cathedral steps were swarmed by aggressive paparazzi shouting questions at bewildered wedding guests who had only just learned why the ceremony was cancelled.
Social media was having a field day. Screenshots of Bianca’s mugshot from the Greenwich police precinct were trending nationwide alongside breaking news tickers detailing the federal raid on Cole Enterprises. Memes mocking the "Wedding of the Year" flooded X (formerly Twitter) within minutes.
Ethan sat alone in the dark, silent living room of his luxury penthouse.
The electricity had not been cut off yet, but the smart-home systems had locked him out of the master administrative controls because the parent corporation had revoked his digital keys. The refrigerator was stocked with expensive champagne and caviar he couldn't touch, and the custom designer suit he was supposed to wear to his wedding hung limply on the back of the bedroom door like a ghost of a life that no longer existed.
His phone rang. It was an unrecognized number.
Desperate for any shred of hope, Ethan lunged for the phone and swiped answer.
“Hello? Is this legal counsel? Did Marcus agree to terms?” Ethan blurted out, his voice cracking with panic.
“Mr. Cole, this is Warden Davis from the Manhattan Detention Complex,” a gruff voice replied.
Ethan’s heart dropped into his stomach. “What? Why are you calling me?”
“We have Miss Bianca Cole in our intake facility following her arraignment on felony assault charges,” the warden stated flatly. “She has invoked her right to one phone call, and she designated you as her primary contact. She is requesting that you post her bail immediately.”
Ethan stared blankly at the wall, the absurdity of the situation washing over him in a cold wave of realization.
“Bail?” Ethan laughed hysterically, the sound grating and hollow. “Bail with what money? My accounts are frozen. I don't even have enough cash to buy a cup of coffee, let alone post a hundred-thousand-dollar bond.”
“So you decline to post bail?” the warden asked.
“I decline,” Ethan whispered.
He ended the call, dropped the phone onto the hardwood floor, and buried his face in his hands.
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For the first time in his life, Ethan Cole was completely, irrevocably alone. No money, no power, no fiancée, no company, and no family.
He had traded a loyal wife and a newborn son for a shallow, manipulative socialite and a temporary thrill of vanity. And now, the bill had finally come due.
