Chapter 7 - THE DRESS THAT WASN'T FOR SALE
I walked down the aisle in my grandmother's old lace dress with Rachel on one side and Aunt Ruth on the other.
Ethan's expression broke open when he saw me. He pressed his lips together, but his eyes were wet. I felt the knot in my chest loosen.
Our guests were confused. A few whispered. Most stood anyway.
At the front, Ethan took my hand. “You look like yourself,” he whispered.
“That might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me today.”
We used the vows we'd written, not the formal ones. He promised to tell me the hard truth even when it was inconvenient. I promised to stop confusing loyalty with silence. Neither of us mentioned my family by name. We didn't have to.
My mother sat stiffly in the second row. Vanessa wasn't admitted after Janelle reviewed the hallway footage and honored my request. The ceremony was small and imperfect and entirely ours.
When the officiant pronounced us married, the room applauded. I kissed Ethan under a spray of white roses that smelled like rain.
For thirty glorious seconds, I forgot about the black dye.
Then the reception began, and my brother Daniel pulled me aside near the cake table.
Daniel was thirty-six, an accountant with a nervous habit of straightening his watch. He had skipped the bridal suite drama, claiming a work call.
“Mom says you've been accusing her of stealing,” he said.
“I asked about a trust.”
“You need to stop.”
“Why?”
His eyes flicked toward Ethan. “Because paperwork isn't always what it looks like.”
“What paperwork?”
Daniel lowered his voice. “There's something about Rose's account you don't understand. When you turn thirty, people will start asking where the money went.”
My stomach tightened. “And where did it go?”
He stared at the wedding cake instead of answering.
“Daniel?”
He slipped a folded receipt into my hand, then walked away.
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Printed across the top was a bank transaction number and a date from six weeks earlier.
The amount was $286,400.
