Chapter 6

Before she could retort, Preston stepped out from behind her.

"Infidelity? Spare me the drama. All this talk? You just want money, right?"

"Name your price. I've got plenty!"

I looked at him like he was a circus act. "Preston, a word of advice—even with Vanderbilt Global behind you, you don't want to cross me."

Isabella instantly bristled. "Sebastian Shaw! Stop trying to scare people! You're just an actor with a famous last name!"

I almost pitied her. Almost.

"Isabella, let me paint you a picture. Your father came to my grandfather three months ago. Not to propose a marriage—to beg for a lifeline."

Her face flickered. "What are you talking about?"

"Young Enterprises' overseas expansion has been hemorrhaging money for two quarters straight. Your father's credit lines are maxed. The only thing keeping the company afloat is the promise of a Shaw partnership—my grandfather's name on the dotted line."

The room went very still.

Wesley shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't part of his script.

"That's a lie!" Isabella snapped, but her voice had lost its edge.

"Is it? Call your father. Ask him what happens to Young Enterprises if the Shaw deal falls through."

She stared at me, fury and doubt warring on her face.

"Or better yet—" I pulled up a financial summary on my phone. Shaw Studios' legal team had prepared it as standard due diligence for the marriage. I held it up for Isabella to see.

Quarterly losses. Debt ratios. A projected insolvency timeline of eighteen months without external capital infusion.

Isabella's lips parted. For the first time since I'd met her, she had nothing to say.

Preston, sensing the shift, tried to recover. "So what? Vanderbilt Global can cover those losses. Isabella, forget this clown—"

"With what?" I cut in. "Your Series B closed at a 40% discount to valuation. Your investors are already nervous. If Shaw Studios pulls distribution support, your content library becomes worthless overnight."

Preston's publicist quietly lowered the phone. Even she knew this footage would never see the light of day.

"Here's what's going to happen," I said, buttoning my jacket. "I'm walking out of this building. The wedding is cancelled. My grandfather will personally call Arthur Young to explain the situation."

I looked at Wesley. "As for you—I'd start updating your resume. When Mr. Young finds out you orchestrated this little coup to collect a finder's fee from Preston, I doubt 'personal manager' will be on your LinkedIn for long."

Wesley's mouth opened and closed like a fish drowning in air.

I turned to Isabella one last time.

"For what it's worth, Isabella, you're not stupid. You're just surrounded by people who profit from keeping you blind."

"Think about that."

I walked out of the dressing room, past the flower arrangements and the ice sculptures and the three hundred guests who had no idea the wedding was already dead.

My phone buzzed. Grandfather.

[Well handled, boy. Come home. We have work to do.]