Mercer looked at Eleanor without smiling.
“I see,” Mercer said.
He removed a folded sheet of heavy, watermarked paper from his pocket.
He held it between his fingers without opening it.
“Interesting,” Mercer said quietly.
Then he looked directly at Vanessa.
“Because as of four o’clock this afternoon, you are fired, Vanessa.”
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Vanessa stared at him.
Then she burst into a shrill laugh.
“Daniel, you’re hilarious. You really had me for a second. That’s a terrible joke to play on a bride!”
Mercer’s expression remained unchanged.
“I have never been less inclined to joke in my entire life,” Mercer stated flatly.
Her smile disappeared.
My mother’s champagne glass began trembling.
My father stepped forward angrily.
“Now see here, Mercer,” my father stammered, his facade of the wealthy, untouchable patriarch crumbling under the pressure. “You can’t just fire a senior executive at her own wedding! This is incredibly inappropriate! I know board members. I will have your head for this breach of decorum!”
