Chapter 4 - Chaos at the Altar
Outside the bathroom door,
the music changed to a upbeat pop song,
the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtering through the wood.
I could hear the distant voice of the DJ announcing the cutting of the cake,
the grand finale of Regina’s carefully choreographed evening.
But then,
another sound began to rise over the music,
a low,
rhythmic thumping of rotors in the distance.
The guests wouldn't notice it at first,
thinking it was part of the entertainment,
or a neighbor's helicopter.
But I knew that sound.
It was the sound of the State Police air unit.
Then came the sirens,
not just one or two,
but a chorus of them,
screaming up the long,
winding driveway of the vineyard.
The music cut out abruptly,
replaced by the confused murmurs of three hundred people.
I heard a commotion in the service corridor,
the sound of heavy boots on the linoleum,
and the sharp,
unmistakable shout of "Police! Stay where you are!"
The deadbolt on the bathroom door rattled,
then there was a heavy thud as someone kicked it with the force of a battering ram.
The wood splintered,
the frame giving way,
and the door swung open to reveal Agent Rachel Stone and two paramedics in tactical vests.
"Laura!"
Rachel rushed to my side,
her eyes scanning my face for signs of shock.
"I'm here,"
I managed to say,
reaching out for the paramedic's hand.
"The baby...
please,
the baby."
They were moving with incredible speed,
lifting me onto a gurney while Rachel kept her hand on my shoulder.
"We have the Highlands,"
she whispered,
leaning down so only I could hear.
"Regina tried to block the door,"
"she told the officers they were having a 'private family matter'."
"They cuffed her in front of everyone,
Laura."
"Derrick tried to run toward the vineyard,
but they caught him at the fence."
As they wheeled me out of the bridal suite,
the hallway was a sea of blue uniforms and flashing lights.
We passed through the ballroom,
and for a brief second,
I saw the wreckage of Kayla’s perfect wedding.
Guests were standing with their hands in the air,
Kayla was sobbing in her white dress,
sitting on the floor next to a fallen cake.
Regina was being led away in handcuffs,
her face a mask of humiliated rage,
her silk dress torn at the shoulder.
She saw me on the gurney and tried to lung forward,
but two officers held her back.
"You've ruined us!"
she shrieked,
the refined mask finally shattered.
"You little rat!"
"You'll never get a cent of our money!"
I looked at her,
feeling a strange sense of pity that was quickly replaced by the next contraction.
"It was never your money,
Regina,"
I said,
my voice steady despite the pain.
"It was the state's."
"And I'm just here to collect."
Then the doors of the terrace opened,
May you like
and I was pushed out into the cool night air,
toward the waiting ambulance.
