Chapter 3Guest at My Own Wedding

The assistant hurried over, holding a leather folio and a Montblanc pen.

Damian reached out to take the pen.

"Wait," I said quietly.

Catherine’s face soured instantly. "Now what? What game are you trying to play?"

"I'd like to see the document first."

"See it? What for? As if you could understand corporate law," Catherine snapped, stepping between me and the table. "For all we know, you'll scribble your own signature on it."

I looked up at Catherine and couldn't help a dry smile. "Even if I did, it wouldn't mean anything. Corporate equity transfers require board ratification and adherence to company bylaws. A stray signature on a piece of paper doesn't magically make someone a shareholder."

Damian let out an irritated click of his tongue.

Ignoring him, I drew the folder toward me, flipped open the cover, and scanned the text. Within thirty seconds, I slid it across the table to Damian.

"The language in the agreement is standard," I said.

Damian crossed his arms, waiting for the punchline, but I didn't give him the chance to speak.

"However, Bradford Construction's executive voting power remains consolidated under Chairman Bradford. Even with this fifteen percent, you won't have the leverage to dictate procurement policies, nor will it legally obligate the board to purchase exclusively from Greer Materials."

I paused, letting the silence expand.

"More importantly, besides the Chairman, Lillian’s uncle, her aunt, and the three original founding partners all hold separate equity tranches. Dropping fifteen percent into that dynamic won't grant you control. It’s far more likely to tie your hands and lock your capital."

Lillian’s gaze snapped to mine, her pupils contracting sharply.

Catherine blinked, caught off guard, before recovering with a harsh laugh. "Do you honestly think doing a five-minute search on your phone makes you a venture capitalist?"

She reached out and slapped Lillian's arm. "Lillian, ignore his nonsense. Let Damian sign. The guests are waiting for the toasts."

Lillian didn't move.

Because she was the only one in the room who knew the truth: the shares held by those three founding partners were registered under private family trusts and nominees. None of that information existed on public regulatory databases.

Damian took a step forward, towering over my chair.

"Adam, you put on this big show of being generous, but you were just dying to get your hands on this contract, weren't you?" He shook his head with mock pity. "Mrs. Bradford is right. You read a couple of financial blogs and suddenly you think you're an advisor?"

He leaned down, dropping his voice just enough to mock me. "Then again, your parents are basically nobodies. You clawed your way into the Bradford circle, and you're terrified of losing your meal ticket, aren't you? No wonder you swallowed your pride when I took your bride. You were saving your energy for this."

He wrapped an arm back around Lillian’s shoulders, puffing his chest out like a prize rooster. "Did you think rattling off a few corporate buzzwords would scare me into ditching Lillian? Or make our families cancel our business ties?"

A few bridesmaids crowded in from the edges.

A tall woman in a white pant suit tapped my shoulder, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Come on, brother-in-law, that’s enough. Today is a celebration. Don’t turn the reception into an emergency board meeting."

Another piped up, "It's just some equity. Lillian has more money than she knows what to do with; you'll get your allowance. The more you obsess over this, the cheaper you look."

"Seriously. Let Damian sign so the bride and groom can make their rounds."

Their voices wove together, a tightening net of condescension, treating me like an envious, insecure outsider who needed to be handled.

Lillian kept her mouth shut.

Catherine reached out, snatched the folio from the table, and shoved the pen into Damian’s hand. "Sign it, Damian. Don't waste another second."

"Gladly," Damian said. He shot me a mocking wink. "Hey, Adam, want to take one last look? Since you're the resident expert, point out where my signature will look the most expensive."

A chorus of stifled laughter echoed through the surrounding tables. They looked at me as if I were a tragic clown refusing to leave the stage.

The moment Damian’s pen lifted from the final page, half the table leaned in to offer their congratulations.

Only Lillian remained detached from the celebration, her eyes fixed on me with a sudden, unsettling scrutiny.

I let my lips curve upward into an easy, quiet smile.

"Don't worry," I thought to myself. "Your turn is coming."