“Are you Preston?” “Oh.” The Duke flipped open the folder. He didn’t look at Preston. He looked directly at Richard Kensington, who was beginning to sweat profusely in his bespoke tuxedo. Because my intelligence team painted a rather different picture of this welcome,” the Duke pulled a single sheet of paper from the folder.

It was a copy of an invoice. “Is this your handwriting?” Richard the Duke asked, holding up the itemized bill the Kensingtons had forced upon Thomas. an invoice for $40,000 for administrative wedding fees and traditional familial obligations. You extorted a retired mechanic to pay for the floral arrangements of your corporate networking event.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, even among the ruthless elite. Shaking down the bride’s workingclass parents for party expenses was a vulgar, unforgivable breach of etiquette. The congressman and the venture capitalists in the front row began murmuring to each other, shooting disgusted looks at Richard.

It It was a misunderstanding. Richard choked out his face violently red. A standard division of costs. You forced this man to take out a second mortgage on his modest home. The Duke snarled his voice dropping to a dangerous vibrating frequency. A home he earned with honest labor while you sat in boardrooms gambling with other people’s pensions.

You humiliated him. You seated him next to the kitchen doors at your rehearsal dinner. You barred his wife from utilizing the hair stylists this morning to save a few pennies. Elellanar opened her mouth to speak, but the Duke silenced her with a single raised finger. Do not embarrass yourself further, madam, he warned.

He turned his attention back to Richard. I know exactly why you wanted this lavish spectacle, Mr. Kensington. I know why you invited senators and investors instead of family. because Kensington Rothschild Holdings is drowning. The collective gasp from the guests was deafening this time. Preston’s head whipped toward his father, his eyes wide with shock.

Dad, what is he talking about? Oh, your son doesn’t know. The Duke smiled, but it was a terrifying, humorless expression. Mr. Kensington’s private equity firm has been secretly insolvent for 6 months. Three of his major real estate developments have gone belly up. He’s overleveraged by $150 million. This wedding was a smokeokc screen, a desperate display of fabricated wealth to convince your investors not to pull their capital.

Richard looked as if he were going to vomit. The two venture capitalists who had been seated at the head table the night before immediately turned and began walking rapidly toward the valet stand. Their phones already pressed to their ears. You have spent the last 5 years begging my firm for a bailout meeting.

The Duke continued his voice cold and precise. You called my offices 12 times last month alone, and now you stand before me, having humiliated the man to whom I owe my very breath.” Khloe finally found her voice. She walked down the remaining marble steps, the heavy silk of her $40,000 dress dragging on the stone. She didn’t look at the Duke.

She walked straight up to Preston. Preston looked panicked. his eyes darting frantically between his father’s ruined face and “And Chloe.” “Chloe, babe, listen to me,” he whispered, reaching for her hands. “We can fix this. My dad’s business doesn’t matter. We’re still getting married. The Duke is here. We can leverage this.

Leverage this.” Chloe repeated the sheer revulsion in her voice, startling even herself. You’re standing here watching my family be vindicated, watching your father’s cruelty be exposed, and your first thought is how to leverage it. Chloe, be reasonable. I have been reasonable,” she said, her voice steady and clear, carrying across the silent lawn.

“Huh? I have let you and your parents make me feel small. I let you treat my parents like dirt because I thought you loved me. But you don’t love me, Preston. You loved having a quiet, compliant girl you could mold and a wedding you could use as a prop. Khloe reached up and grabbed the diamond engagement ring on her left hand.

It was a massive ostentatious stone that Eleanor had picked out. She yanked it off her finger. “The wedding is off,” Khloe declared. She didn’t throw the ring at him. She didn’t give it to him at all. Instead, she turned and walked over to one of the catering tables set up on the lawn. She dropped the diamond ring directly into a silver bucket of melting ice.

“Sell it,” Kloe called out over her shoulder to Elellanar, who was clutching her chest as if experiencing a cardiac event. “It might help cover your bankruptcy lawyers.” The crowd erupted into chaotic whispers. Preston stood frozen, his mouth open, entirely emasculated and stripped of his power. Richard Kensington sank onto one of the white folding chairs, putting his head in his hands as his empire crumbled around him in real time.

The Duke of Harrington watched Khloe with an expression of profound approval. He turned to his assistant who was still holding the briefcase. Julian, the Duke said, contact our financial division in New York. Have them buy the debt on Mr. Kensington’s firm by close of business tomorrow. Then I want the firm liquidated. Sell it for parts.

Make sure the Kensingtons are left with absolutely nothing but the clothes on their backs. Yes, your grace, the assistant said immediately, tapping on a tablet. And Julian, the Duke added. Pay off the mortgage on the Harper’s home immediately in full and set up a blind trust in Thomas Harper’s name. Seed it with $10 million to start.

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