The news of the federal raid on the Bradford estate was already breaking online.

“Thomas,” Vivian said, turning her desperate gaze toward the senator.

“You know our legal counsel can handle this within the hour.”

The senator did not look up from his phone.

“This is a disaster,” Senator Kensington muttered, his voice carrying clearly to the front rows.

His eyes shifted toward the reporters gathered outside the pavilion gates.

The flashing lights of police cruisers were now visible through the glass panels of the pavilion.

Audrey reached out to touch Garrett’s arm.

“Garrett?” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Garrett didn’t look at her; his eyes were fixed on the handcuffs one of the agents had produced from his belt.

“We need to go, Audrey,” Senator Kensington said, his hand firmly gripping his daughter’s shoulder.

“Dad, wait,” Audrey said, pulling back slightly.

“No,” the senator said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“My reelection campaign cannot survive a single photograph of us next to this.”

He looked at the agents, then at Grandfather Bradford.

“The wedding is off,” Senator Kensington announced to the room.