Part 3:
Outside, the midnight fireworks thundered across the sky.
Inside, no one moved.
Dad ended the call with shaking fingers. Vivian’s fiancé shifted away from her as though the truth carried an odor. Mom’s gaze moved repeatedly between the folder and me, searching for the obedient daughter she still believed she could control.
“Clara,” Dad said, his voice abruptly gentle, “we are family.”
I nearly laughed.
“You remembered that after the bank called?”
His jaw tightened.
Vivian lashed out. “You’re ruining my wedding.”
“No,” I said. “You tried to pay for it with a company already on life support.”
Martin began reading through the invoice packet, and the color left his face. The lake house deposit. The luxury wedding planner. The imported floral arrangements. Every expense had been recorded as “client hospitality.”
Dad spoke barely above a whisper. “Vivian, tell me this is a mistake.”
Tears filled her eyes. “You always fix things for her. I thought you’d fix this too.”
