Chapter 2

The MC's smile froze on stage. Guests nearby had already turned to look.

Ethan grabbed my arm. "Wren, don't make a scene."

"A scene?" I pulled free. "You transferred my mother's surgery funds to your brother to buy a house — and I'm the one making a scene?"

The words landed like a stone in still water. The whole ballroom went silent.

Ethan's face went pale, then dark. "You want to blow everything up today?"

"Me?" I met his eyes, word by word. "Ethan, I spent four years building your company with you. I did your books, worked your contacts, sat through your client dinners, held up a company that was on the verge of collapse. While my mother was hospitalized this past six months, I ran between the hospital and the office every single day. I planned this entire wedding alone. And now you transfer my mother's surgery money to pay your brother's down payment — and you're calling me the problem?"

Someone in the crowd drew a sharp breath.

Margaret's voice went shrill. "You're dragging our family name through the mud! What do you mean your money? You were about to be married — his money is your money!"

"Is it?"

I looked at her steadily, all warmth gone.

"Then let me be clear: the wedding is off. And every cent comes back."

That finally broke Ethan's composure. He stepped close, jaw tight. "Wren, think carefully. If you call off this wedding right now, can you live with the humiliation?"

I looked at him, and something inside me shifted.

Seven years.

I had given him seven years.

Right out of college, when his startup had failed and he couldn't cover rent, I'd poured every dollar I had into helping him survive. He'd promised me the best wedding someday. A real home.

I'd believed him.

I had helped him crawl from a cramped city apartment to a legitimate company. I'd sat in investor meetings, talked him through endless work dinners, untangled his financial knots, covered for his reckless brother over and over again.

One "you always know best, Wren" from him, and I'd thought I was loved.

I wasn't loved.

I was managed.

I was the most useful, most compliant, most disposable free resource they'd ever found — accountant, assistant, ATM, all in one.

And now they'd dared reach for my mother's surgery money.

I looked at Ethan, and a strange calm settled over me.

The calmer I became, the more panicked he looked.

I reached up and pulled out my veil.

The white tulle slid from my head, pooled on the floor like a torn cloud.

The ballroom erupted.

"Wren!" Ethan lunged forward.

I stepped back and lifted the MC's microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen — this wedding is cancelled."

The room exploded in noise.

Margaret screamed. "You wouldn't dare—"

"Not only am I cancelling it — I'm calling the police." I raised my phone, my voice carrying clearly to every corner of the room. "Fifteen minutes ago, $880,000 was transferred out of my account without my authorization. The recipient is Ethan Sterling's brother, Leo Sterling. That money is my mother's surgery fund — her operation is scheduled for tomorrow morning. Since you've all come to celebrate today, I'd ask you to bear witness."

After a stunned moment, the crowd erupted again.

Some guests set down their silverware.

Some pulled out phones to record.

Someone whispered, "That's brutal."

Ethan lunged for my phone. "Put that down!"

I stepped back. "You'd better pray that money can be recovered."

Then, in front of everyone, I called 911.

Margaret rushed at me — hotel security stepped in front of her. She screamed that I was ungrateful, that I'd lost my mind, that I was destroying her eldest son's future.

I listened, and felt nothing but contempt.

Who destroyed whom.

The police hadn't arrived yet when my phone rang.

The hospital.

My chest dropped.

I pushed into a corner and answered. A nurse's voice came through, urgent: "Ms. Holloway, your mother's condition has taken a turn. The attending wants you here immediately. Also — the pre-op payment appears to have been reversed. Your account balance is insufficient. Tomorrow's surgery may need to be rescheduled. Please come as soon as possible."

Two seconds of complete blankness.

My fingers locked around the phone, knuckles white.

"I'm on my way."