Chapter 6 - Retribution in High Definition
The ballroom exploded into a frenzy of flashing strobes and shouting voices.
Ryan slumped against the marble column, clutching his bleeding face. The reality of what had just happened was crashing down on him like a tidal wave. In less than ten minutes, he had lost his studio backing, his public reputation, his unreleased films, and the limitless financial safety net he had taken for granted throughout our entire marriage.
"Mara... Mara, no, please!" he begged, crawling forward on his knees across the polished balcony tiles. "We can fix this! We can talk! I was stupid, I was manipulated by Brielle and Vance! You know I love you! Think about our wedding! Think about our vow—"
"Do not speak to me of vows," I cut him off, my voice sharp as broken glass. "You broke your vows the moment you silenced my surgeon's emergency call to protect a promotional photoshoot."
Behind him, Brielle was already frantically typing on her phone, sobbing hysterically as she realized her career was burning to ash before it had even begun.
"He lied to me!" Brielle screamed at the press below, desperately leaning over the railing. "Ryan told me Mara approved of our arrangement! He told me she was in on the PR stunt! I'm a victim here too! I didn't know she was in the hospital!"
"Save it for your deposition, Brielle," Vivian’s crisp voice cut in as she stepped onto the balcony accompanied by two uniformed officers from the Beverly Hills Police Department.
The officers bypassed Brielle entirely and walked straight toward Ryan.
Ryan looked up in sheer horror. "What is this? What are the police doing here? Mara, what did you do?!"
"Mr. Devereaux," the lead officer stated formally, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his belt. "We have an arrest warrant issued for reckless endangerment, obstruction of emergency medical personnel, and fraudulent execution of medical power of attorney."
Ryan’s jaw dropped. "What? That's ridiculous! I'm her husband!"
"Three hours ago," Vivian stated coldly, reading from her tablet, "you intercepted an emergency dispatch at your home, signed a forged medical deferral form claiming your wife had refused emergency transport, and instructed our domestic staff not to contact emergency services for forty-five minutes so you could finish an interview with Vanity Fair. If her personal driver hadn't bypassed your instructions, Mara would have suffered fatal internal blood loss."
Ryan’s eyes widened with pure, undisguised terror. "I... I thought it was just bad cramps! I didn't know it was that serious!"
"Tell it to the judge," the officer snapped, forcing Ryan’s arms behind his back and clicking the steel cuffs shut around his wrists.
May you like
The sound of the handcuffs clicking closed echoed with poetic finality. Photographers pushed against the security ropes below, capturing every humiliating second of Hollywood’s top leading man being led away in irons.
***
