Page 180 of Mexico Can Choke On It
Whatever they cooked up, it’s happening.
“The Whitfieldsbuiltthis country! We owned land when your ancestors were picking potatoes! I’m American royalty! When I rebuild my family’s fortune, I’ll buy this mansion, and every single person here will bow down, lick my shoes, and—”
“Oh my GOD, Fiona, shut UP!” The words explode from Hana’s mouth.
Fiona whips around, blonde curls bouncing, nostrils flaring. “Hana! How dare you—”
That’s when Petramoves.
Time slows. She dives for the dog, pulling Miss Muffy out of Fiona’s surprised grip, shielding the animal with her own body. Petra skids across the floor, dog safely cocooned before they both roll to a stop at the altar steps. And then—
BZZZZZZT!
The taser makes contact. Fiona convulses midscream before collapsing backward into what’s left of the floral display—limbs twitching, lips mumbling nonsense.
“This is for all the pets you stole from,” Hana yells, taser in hand. “And also… you’re just a bitch.”
Jesus Christ. Sweet, innocent Hana just electrocuted the bride.
Stunned silence. Until…
The black-uniformed authorities flood in with tactical efficiency. Echo and Fiona are hauled upright, silver handcuffs click into place.
“This arrest is an illusion!” Echo wails as they take him away. “The handcuffs are merely props in my latest art piece!”
As the officers escort Fiona’s still-shaky form toward the exit, Petra straightens up. Her white dress is grass-stained, her dark hair no longer styled, but she’s never looked more magnificent.
“Hey Fiona!” she calls out cheerfully. “Hope you like orange! It’s gonna be your new signature color for the next ten to twenty!”
Miss Muffy yips in agreement, appearing smugger than usual(which is saying something). Petra places the Maltese into Nigel’s waiting arms.
“I am eternally in your debt.”
“Don’t get all mushy on me. Somebody had to save my bridesmaid’s dress.”
Nigel chuckles. Then he pivots to the stunned guests, voice crisp with ceremonial command.
“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to explain. A criminal conspiracy was just thwarted. One that included international art fraud, attempted royal homicide, and emotional manipulation of a future billionaire. We will no longer be having a wedding today. However, Casa Cashmere extends a special thanks to the bravery of Miss Petra Brinkman.”
A smattering of confused applause breaks out.
Nigel turns to Gavin. “Your sister possesses remarkable courage. You are lucky to call her family.”
That shy, sweet smile Petra gives her brother—it’s like watching love in its most genuine form. I stand back, swallowing everything I’ll never get to say about how fiercely she shines.
I’ll never get to tell her I love her.
Nigel continues, “Now, if you will all adjourn to the reception ballroom, there will be a dinner and—”
“Hold on, Nigel.”
The room snaps to attention. To Reginald Sterling. To my father.
Every hair on my body lifts as he rises from the audience, adjusting his Hermès tie.
“Seems wasteful to squander such an elegant gathering. Wouldn’t you agree, son?”
The engagement ring box burns in my jacket. “Father, this isn’t the time or place.”
