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The night before the wedding, Charlotte Wynn told me she wasn't having a bachelorette party. "I don't like those noisy parties." I bought it. Later that night, my best man texted me an address. When I got to the private club, there she was, standing right in the middle of the dance floor in a wedding dress. Her ex, Alex Quinn, knelt on one knee before her, holding out a ring. The crowd started shouting, "Kiss her." Charlotte kept her head down and didn't back away. I shoved through the crowd and kicked over the champagne tower right in front of Alex. Glass shattered everywhere. Everyone went dead silent.