Chapter 4: Screen Mirroring Deceit
I walked up the short steps onto the raised stage. Behind me, a massive, state-of-the-art LED screen was displaying a slideshow of Callahan and me—smiling, kissing, looking nauseatingly happy. It felt like a mocking eulogy for a dead relationship.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Honored guests. Respected family,” I spoke into the microphone.
My voice boomed through the ballroom’s premium sound system, instantly slicing through the chaotic chatter. The room fell into a dead, terrifying silence. Hundreds of eyes snapped toward me. Loretta and Vada stood frozen near the head table, their faces slack with shock. They had severely miscalculated; they never anticipated I would escalate a private extortion attempt into a public broadcast.
“Today was supposed to be a joyous milestone,” I continued, pacing slowly across the stage. “However, there has been a massive, catastrophic financial ‘misunderstanding’ which I am forced to clarify right here, right now, to protect my integrity and my family’s reputation. The hotel management has just informed me of a pending invoice for forty thousand dollars. Furthermore, the groom’s family has publicly accused me of being a cheap, disrespectful daughter-in-law. Therefore, I am going to practice total, unvarnished transparency.”
I pulled my iPhone from my clutch, swiped down the control center, and instantly screen-mirrored my display to the massive jumbotron behind me. I opened my Chase Bank corporate application and navigated directly to my transaction history.
“Everyone, please direct your attention to the screen.”
Looming over the crowd in high-definition was my bank ledger.
“This is my verified wire transfer history from the fifteenth of this month. Recipient: Loretta. Transfer amount: Exactly thirty thousand dollars. Memo line: ‘For the engagement party.’ According to our explicit, verbal agreement, this capital was strictly allocated to reserve five premium tables and cover all associated costs for fifty guests.”
A collective, massive shockwave of gasps and frantic whispers ripped through the ballroom. Loretta’s face drained of all color, transforming into a sickly, chalky white. She looked around frantically, suddenly realizing the trap she had built for me had just clamped shut on her own leg.
“I ran the baseline numbers,” I projected, my voice forged from cold steel. “Even at this hotel’s premium rates, thirty thousand dollars is more than sufficient. In fact, there should have been a significant surplus. And yet…” I paused, letting the tension stretch until it was nearly unbearable. “…the hotel just informed me that Loretta only put down a fraction of that money.”
I spun around and pointed dead at the manager. “Mr. Sterling, please speak into your microphone. Tell this room exactly how much Miss Loretta paid you as a deposit ten days ago.”
Sterling, realizing that absolute truth was the only way his venue was getting paid, raised his mic. “That is correct, Miss Delaney. Ten days ago, Miss Loretta handed us exactly three thousand dollars in cash and signed the preliminary contract.”
The ballroom erupted into chaos.
“Oh my god, she gave her thirty grand and she only paid three?”
“Where did the other twenty-seven thousand go?”
“She stole from her own daughter-in-law!”
I didn’t let the crowd noise overpower me. “Twenty-seven thousand dollars vanished into thin air before a single appetizer was served. And today, Loretta unilaterally ordered the most expensive items on the menu, imported over a hundred unauthorized guests, and attempted to saddle me with a forty-thousand-dollar debt on top of what she already embezzled!”
I stepped off the stage and marched straight toward Loretta’s table. I grabbed the itemized invoice and shoved it into her face. “Let’s read the charges, shall we? Twenty jumbo Maine lobsters at one hundred and eighty dollars a piece. Ten bottles of Reserve twenty-five-year Kentucky bourbon at two hundred and fifty dollars a pop. Why did you order ultra-rare whiskey, Loretta? So your friends could get blackout drunk, or did you plan to take it home?”
I shot a glance under the table. Sure enough, peeking out of a large designer shopping bag at Aunt Vada’s feet were the gold-foiled necks of three unopened bourbon bottles. I leaned down, snatched the heavy bag, and slammed it onto the table with an incriminating thud.
“And here is the evidence. Unopened, bagged up, and ready to be smuggled out. You and Vada purposefully over-ordered so you could rob me blind and stock your own liquor cabinets!”
Vada tried to snatch the bag back, stammering, “No! It’s a promotional gift from the hotel!”
“Do not insult my intelligence,” I snapped. “You upgraded every dish, tripled the guest list, and turned my engagement into a gold rush for yourselves. You have absolutely zero conscience.”
Realizing she was trapped in a corner with no logical escape, Loretta pivoted to the universally deployed tactic of manipulative predators. She clutched her chest, her face contorting into a mask of pure agony. She swayed dramatically and collapsed back into her chair, bursting into loud, theatrical sobs.
“Oh, God! Why are you punishing me?” she wailed, tears and snot streaming down her face. “I’m just a poor widow! I raised my boy all by myself! I’m an old woman, I don’t understand complicated catering contracts! I just wanted my boy’s day to be beautiful, and now this cruel, wealthy monster is calling me a criminal in front of my hometown!”
She slapped her own knees, rocking back and forth. “Look at me! My feet are bleeding from playing hostess, and she throws bank statements at me like I’m a murderer! Callahan, my baby, save me from this witch!”
The crowd murmured uneasily. The out-of-town guests, naturally wired to sympathize with a crying elderly woman, started casting judgmental glares my way.
Before I could dismantle her pathetic soap opera, Callahan suddenly lunged forward. His massive hand clamped down on my wrist like a vice, yanking me away from the crowd.
