After I paid nearly everything for my sister's wedding, she stood in front of our relatives and tore my invitation in half. "You'll only ruin my perfect day," my parents clapped in agreement. "If she doesn't want you here," my father said, "leave." "So be it," I answered

My mother denied everything before I even accused her.

"I didn't send anything."

I hadn't said she had.

That frightened me more.

"What email?" she demanded.

I put Marcus on speaker.

He explained that shortly after midnight, his events team had received a message requesting an urgent amendment to the host-of-record designation.

The message claimed I'd voluntarily transferred responsibility to my father.

Attached was a signed authorization.

My signature.

Except I had never signed it.

Mom sank into the chair across from my desk.

"Maybe Ashley—"

"Forged my signature?"

"I didn't say that."

"You almost did."

Marcus told me his staff had flagged the request because the digital signature didn't match the authentication record attached to the original contract.

Nothing had been changed.

Good.

But someone had tried.

I asked Marcus to preserve everything.

Emails.

Attachments.

Time stamps.

Then I ended the call.

Mom rubbed her forehead.

"Your sister is panicking."

"Apparently she started panicking before anyone told her about the venue."

That mattered.

If Ashley had tried changing the contracts around midnight, she had done it hours before Marcus called.

Meaning someone in that private dining room had understood the danger after I left.

Someone knew the wedding existed under my authority.

"Who told her?" I asked.

Mom avoided my eyes.

"Eleanor—"

"Who told Ashley she needed to remove my name?"

"I don't know."

I watched her carefully.

My mother was terrible at lying when she was afraid.

Her right thumb always rubbed against her wedding ring.

She was doing it now.

Before I could press harder, my office door opened.

My assistant, Naomi, stepped inside.

"You have a visitor."

"I'm busy."

"He says it's urgent."

"Who?"

She hesitated.

"Your father."

Dad walked in before I could answer.

Unlike Mom, he wasn't frightened.

He was furious.

"You will fix this."

I leaned back.

"Good morning."

"I don't care about your little power game. Reinstate the wedding."

"No."

His face darkened.

"You don't get to destroy your sister's marriage because your feelings got hurt."

"I'm not touching her marriage."

"You know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean."

He slapped a printed invoice onto my desk.

$117,840.

"You expect us to produce this in three hours?"

"No. Marcus does."

My father leaned closer.

"You agreed to pay."

"Actually, I didn't."

"You arranged everything!"

"Correct."

"For your sister."

"Through my company, with me listed as host. The courtesy depended on my professional relationship."

"Then use your relationship!"

I studied him.

For years, my father had treated my resources as family property while treating me like an optional family member.

This was the first time he'd been forced to see the difference.

Mom whispered, "Robert, tell her."

Dad shot her a look.

My pulse changed.

"Tell me what?"

Neither answered.

I stood.

"Tell me what?"

Dad's phone rang.

Ashley.

He ignored it.

Then again.

And again.

Finally he answered.

"What?"

Her voice was so loud I could hear it from across the desk.

"Dad, the florist is leaving!"

Mom gasped.

Ashley continued.

"And the shuttle company says they're canceling unless someone sends a new card. The band won't unload. And the photographer is asking me why Eleanor isn't answering!"

Dad glared at me.

"Fix it."

"No."

Then Ashley screamed something else.

Something that made my father go completely still.

"What do you mean the deposit is gone?"

I straightened.

Dad walked toward the window.

Ashley spoke rapidly.

I caught fragments.

Joint account.

Transfer.