The wedding planner opened the cream folder and read the first line twice.
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
Beatrice noticed the change in her face and reached for the folder, but the planner instinctively pulled it closer to her chest.
“What is that?” Beatrice demanded.
The planner looked past her toward Silas.
“Mr.
Sterling,” she said carefully, “I wasn’t informed you would be attending tonight.”
A silence spread outward from table 19.
It began with the waiter holding a tray beside the kitchen doors.
Then the guests at table 18 stopped talking.
Chairs shifted.
Faces turned.
Even the clatter of plates behind the swinging doors seemed to fade.
Julian forced a laugh.
“Mr.
Sterling?” He looked at Silas and then at Greg.
“Do you know this man?”
Greg’s face had lost its color.
“Everyone in technology knows him,” he murmured.
“That’s Silas Sterling.
Artemis AI.”
Julian’s smile flickered but did not disappear.
He had spent years perfecting the art of appearing confident after discovering that someone else held more power than he did.
“Of course,” he said.
“The software developer.”
“The developer whose company sold for nine figures,” Greg replied.
Beatrice dismissed the number with a sharp movement of her hand.
“Money does not purchase manners.
This is a private wedding, and he was not invited.”
Silas remained beside Annie’s chair, one hand resting lightly on its back.
“You’re correct,” he said.
“I wasn’t invited as a guest.”
Beatrice turned triumphantly toward the planner.
“Then have him removed.”
The planner swallowed.
“I can’t do that, Mrs.
Thorne.”
“Can’t?”
She opened the folder again and angled the first document toward Beatrice.
A gold seal gleamed at the bottom, but the words above it were what stopped her.
Sterling Hospitality Holdings.
Beneficial owner of the Sterling Grand Hotel, its grounds, attached commercial spaces, and all operating assets.
Julian read over his mother’s shoulder.
His jaw tightened.
Silas spoke without raising his voice.
“My family built the original hotel.
I purchased the remaining shares eighteen months ago.
The building, the ballroom, the parking structure, and the land beneath them belong to my company.”
A few guests glanced down at the floor as though the marble itself had changed.
Beatrice stared at the document and then at Silas.
“That proves nothing.
Wealthy families hide behind companies all the time.”
“It proves,” Annie said, “that you just ordered the owner of this hotel to leave his own property.”
A nervous laugh escaped from somewhere near table 16 and died immediately.
Julian stepped closer to Annie.
“What exactly are you trying to do?”
