"Why are you doing this?" Sara screamed as two security officers tightened their grip on her wrists.
"Ma'am, step back," one officer said, voice low and steady. His hand moved toward handcuffs.
"Step back?" Sara barked. "I'm not the one stepping anywhere. I'm saying my vows."
A camera phone rose to capture her. Hundreds of lenses pointed like accusation.
"Sir, control your guest," the event manager shouted. "This isn't part of the program."
Everett Parker stood at the altar in a tailored navy suit. He did not move. He watched the officers with calm eyes. He did not reach for her.
"Everett!" Sara spat. "Do something. Tell them this is a mistake."
Everett smiled, the sort that counted votes and closed deals. He leaned toward the nearest microphone and adjusted it. The officiant cleared his throat, confused.
"Your presence will be required at the station," the taller officer said. He showed a phone screen. A badge flash. The word arrest reflected in the glow.
"On what charge?" Sara asked. She kept her voice steady because rage and training sat tightly under her skin.
"There's a warrant for obstruction and involvement in the death of Lin Muxue," the officer said. The name hit like thrown gravel.
"You're lying." Sara's every word was a landing. Cameras tracked her.
From the back, a voice called, "What did she do? Who is Lin Muxue?"
Margherita Sun's laugh landed sharp. She held her champagne like a prop
