My Pregnant Daughter Was Lying In A Coffin When Her Husband Walked Into The Church Laughing With His Mistress

Before Grant could lunge forward or formulate another frantic denial, Daniel Cho raised a single finger toward the back of the cathedral.

“Officers, execute the court order.”

The two uniformed police officers didn't hesitate. They marched swiftly down the center aisle, their heavy boots echoing against the stone floor. Before Grant could even blink, cold steel cuffs snapped sharply around his wrists, biting deep into his designer suit sleeves.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Grant bellowed, struggling against the officers as they forced his arms behind his back. “You can’t arrest me at a funeral! This is a gross abuse of process! I demand my lawyer!”

“You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Vance,” the lead officer recited flatly, reading him his Miranda rights while guiding him away from the altar. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Sloane shrieked, jumping out of her pew and grabbing onto the officer’s sleeve. “You can’t take him! You can’t take us! This is harassment! Sloane Vance—look at me, Grant! Do something!”

“Back off, ma’am,” the second officer warned, gently pushing her away. “Unless you’d like to accompany Mr. Vance downtown for questioning regarding your involvement in the receipt of stolen corporate assets and shell company fraud.”

Sloane froze, her face turning chalk-white. She slowly released her grip on the officer's uniform, stumbling backward into an empty pew, staring in utter horror as the man she had planned to build an empire with was led down the aisle in handcuffs.

The heavy oak doors swung open, letting in a blinding shaft of afternoon sunlight, before slamming shut behind them.

The cathedral fell dead silent once more. The murmurs died down, leaving only the soft hum of the organ playing a low, melancholic chord in the background.