The Television in the prison recreation hall was bolted to the wall with thick steel brackets, but it still shook when the news anchorwoman said the name Paris Pentagon. "We live outside the Grand Cathedral in Chevron Province," the screen shrieked in bright gold and white. "The marriage proposal of the decade. Paris Pentagon, sole heiress to the Pentagon Winery empire, stepping into the winter snow on the arm of Richard Harrison, crude oil magnate and grandson of the legendary Harrison syndicate." Chay Patrick did not stop scrubbing the prison floor. His knees pressed into the rough concrete floor of the cell block, and gray mop water soaked through his thin prison pants. He didn't need to look up at the flashing screen to know who was standing under those imported white rose petals. Paris Pentagon was the woman he loved with all his heart. He had stayed up with her for three years helping build her family's winery, and he had proposed to her in the snow just before her family

The heavy iron gates of the Chevron Province Correctional Center did not screech when they parted at dawn. The big gates opened silently on strong hinges, sliding into the frozen stone pillars. They opened like they were welcoming a king, not letting out a prisoner. Standing at the edge of the dark road, out in the cold, thick fog from the valley, was a man in a perfect, clean uniform of the Lord Chief of the Provincial Judiciary. When the plain black armored car came out of the prison security area, the Lord Chief did not wait for it to fully stop. He clicked his heels together like a soldier, gave a sharp salute with his gloved hand, and then bowed deeply at a 90-degree angle toward the car's dark window. Inside the vehicle, Chay Patrick sat in silence. He had a simple dark wool coat on his shoulders, and his hand was resting casually on his knee. His trousers were neatly ironed. He did not look back at the gray, rusted concrete walls of the prison that had tried to break his

The big iron gates of the expensive country club opened for a line of dark blue luxury cars.It was a private club for only rich people, with big green golf fields and glass buildings where rich businessmen made million-dollar deals over drinks.In the first limousine, Kimberly Shelton sat in the back seat, busy working on her tablet.In the front seat, dressed as a driver in a clean black uniform, was Chay Patrick. He sat straight, hands on the dashboard, driving smoothly along the road lined with trees.Parked near the main building were three expensive sports cars shining in the sun.Standing next to them, acting proud and important, were Paris Pentagon, her mother Beatrice, and her new fiancé, Richard Harrison.Richard, a billionaire oil heir, wore an expensive white suit. Paris was covered in diamond jewelry that made noise when she moved.They were there for a big business meeting with a top executive from Crystal Diamond. They wanted a deal to handle all the shipping for their

The big auction hall smelled of old wood, cigar smoke, and rich people's money.Crystal lights hung from the high ceiling, shining over rows of soft chairs filled with the richest businessmen, art collectors, and important people.Tonight was a very important private auction before the wedding, where rare old things, land papers, and historic company papers were sold to men who measured their value in billions.Sitting near the front in the VIP area, wearing a red dress that made everyone look at her, was Paris Pentagon.Next to her sat Richard Harrison, his arm around her chair, playing with an expensive gold pen.A few rows behind them, hidden in the shadow of a big pillar, sat Chay Patrick.He wore his plain dark driver suit, hands quietly on his knees, blending into the background like a nobody.On the stage at the front was the item everyone came to see: the Royal Winemaking Ledger of the First Dynasty, a priceless, old leather book over 300 years old, with secret wine recipes an

The stone arches of St. Jude's Cathedral stood tall under the bright sun. Inside, big colorful glass windows shone red and gold light onto white carpets that covered the long center aisle.It was the wedding of the century.Global media cameras lined the tall marble pillars, zooming in on powerful politicians, oil barons, and rich tycoons packed into the wooden seats.Every seat was full of the prestige and power of the Harrison-Pentagon alliance.At the top, on the flower-covered altar, stood Paris Pentagon. Her long lace veil trailed five feet behind her, glowing bright under the spotlights.Beside her stood Richard Harrison, in a hand-made white tuxedo. His chest puffed out with pride and love.They soaked up the loud applause and flashing cameras, totally sure they had conquered the world. In their minds, their business empire could never fall, and every rival was crushed under their boots.Their oil was pumping, their wine stocks were rising, and their bank accounts were full.At