I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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Seeing my unwavering stance, Dominick switched tactics, playing the sympathy card.
"My dad died young—I've been looking after Angie my whole life. As a personal favor, could you just drop this?"
"That leverage doesn't work on me anymore," I shot back, icy.
He froze, my words hitting him like a slap.
I could've tolerated his blind spot for Angie—if he'd at least acknowledged right from wrong. But theft? That's a hard line. Any lawyer covering for a thief has no integrity.
With tensions at a standstill, Dominick stepped out to grab drinks—still remembering my usual order.
"Lynda." He reached for my hand.
I jerked away, shooting him a look that said Cut the crap.
"I know I've been buried in work lately," he backpedaled. "Once this case wraps, let's escape to the beach, just us two."
Same old song. Whenever I stood my ground, he'd dangle these hollow gestures to smooth things over.
Then came his pivot: "Angie, you crossed a line. Apologize to Lynda now."
Smart move. He knew if I didn't relent, Angie could do real time—those stolen bags weren't cheap.
"Come on, we're family. Just make nice and this all goes away."
But Angie doubled down, eyes welling up: "It's not my fault! Lynda promised me those bags!" She produced a recording—my voice supposedly offering her the purses and unlimited car access.
"After everything I've done for you," she whimpered, clutching Dominick's arm like a lifeline, "you'd set me up like this?"
Dominick replayed it twice, hope flickering. "Is this real?"
"What do you think?" I countered.
"If it is, then Angie's clean," he said, practically grinning.
I crushed that delusion fast. "It's fake. I never said that." Locking eyes with Angie, I added, "And your brother knows better than anyone what happens for falsifying evidence."
Busy or not, I'd never make that offer. With today's AI, voice deepfakes are child's play—and my tech team could debunk this in minutes.
"It's real!" she insisted. "You said it on the second-floor balcony!"
Done with the charade, I swung the door open for the waiting officers. "Then let's take your 'evidence' to the station."
"Wait!" Dominick grabbed me, phone pressed to his ear—my father's voice crackling through.
"Mr. Rivera, Angie's learned her lesson. Could Lynda show some leniency? This family drama going public helps no one..."
Back when Dad vetted Dominick, he'd raved about him—a solid guy from a decent family, universally respected at work. The perfect match to ensure I'd never be looked down on.
He just never saw Dominick's Jekyll-and-Hyde act when Angie was involved.
As Dominick shoved the phone at me, Angie finally cracked, babbling apologies and promises.
My father, ever the dealmaker, offered a compromise: no charges, and I could pick any bag in the city. The scandal had already torched Angie's acting dreams—that was punishment enough.
Not wanting to stress Dad further, I agreed... on one condition.
"My dad died young—I've been looking after Angie my whole life. As a personal favor, could you just drop this?"
"That leverage doesn't work on me anymore," I shot back, icy.
He froze, my words hitting him like a slap.
I could've tolerated his blind spot for Angie—if he'd at least acknowledged right from wrong. But theft? That's a hard line. Any lawyer covering for a thief has no integrity.
With tensions at a standstill, Dominick stepped out to grab drinks—still remembering my usual order.
"Lynda." He reached for my hand.
I jerked away, shooting him a look that said Cut the crap.
"I know I've been buried in work lately," he backpedaled. "Once this case wraps, let's escape to the beach, just us two."
Same old song. Whenever I stood my ground, he'd dangle these hollow gestures to smooth things over.
Then came his pivot: "Angie, you crossed a line. Apologize to Lynda now."
Smart move. He knew if I didn't relent, Angie could do real time—those stolen bags weren't cheap.
"Come on, we're family. Just make nice and this all goes away."
But Angie doubled down, eyes welling up: "It's not my fault! Lynda promised me those bags!" She produced a recording—my voice supposedly offering her the purses and unlimited car access.
"After everything I've done for you," she whimpered, clutching Dominick's arm like a lifeline, "you'd set me up like this?"
Dominick replayed it twice, hope flickering. "Is this real?"
"What do you think?" I countered.
"If it is, then Angie's clean," he said, practically grinning.
I crushed that delusion fast. "It's fake. I never said that." Locking eyes with Angie, I added, "And your brother knows better than anyone what happens for falsifying evidence."
Busy or not, I'd never make that offer. With today's AI, voice deepfakes are child's play—and my tech team could debunk this in minutes.
"It's real!" she insisted. "You said it on the second-floor balcony!"
Done with the charade, I swung the door open for the waiting officers. "Then let's take your 'evidence' to the station."
"Wait!" Dominick grabbed me, phone pressed to his ear—my father's voice crackling through.
"Mr. Rivera, Angie's learned her lesson. Could Lynda show some leniency? This family drama going public helps no one..."
Back when Dad vetted Dominick, he'd raved about him—a solid guy from a decent family, universally respected at work. The perfect match to ensure I'd never be looked down on.
He just never saw Dominick's Jekyll-and-Hyde act when Angie was involved.
As Dominick shoved the phone at me, Angie finally cracked, babbling apologies and promises.
My father, ever the dealmaker, offered a compromise: no charges, and I could pick any bag in the city. The scandal had already torched Angie's acting dreams—that was punishment enough.
Not wanting to stress Dad further, I agreed... on one condition.
End of I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to I Died a Bride, I Woke Up a Vengeance book page.