(Ashley’s Point of View)
The morning of the wedding dawns with a surreal, cinematic beauty that is a profound insult to the ugliness of the day. The sky over Las Vegas is a flawless, crystalline blue, the desert sun casting long, sharp shadows from the towering hotels. From the window of my car, I can see the chapel—a modern marvel of glass and white marble perched atop one of the Sterling-owned casinos, overlooking the Strip. It’s surrounded by a swarm of media, their cameras and satellite trucks aimed at the entrance like a firing squad. They think they’re here to cover a fairytale wedding. They have no idea they’re about to witness an execution.
My heart is a cold, heavy stone in my chest. The chaotic, fiery rage that has fueled me for weeks has been banked, transformed into a stil
