Chapter 3

At nine-thirty sharp, Kevin's texts detonated across my screen.

"Natalie, what's going on with your parents? I just checked the banking portal. There's no incoming transfer of a hundred grand."

A voice note followed immediately, his tone laced with suppressed frustration, though still wrapped in his signature condescending lecture.

"Giving me the silent treatment won't make this go away. I've already paid the wedding venue deposit. If your family can't pull their weight and makes us look like cheapskates in front of my relatives, I won't be the only one humiliated."

I stared at the screen without typing a single letter.

Seconds later, he sent an image—a screenshot of an Excel spreadsheet.

It was a meticulous, itemized breakdown of our wedding costs:

Welcome arch balloons: $80 (Bride's share: $40)

Aisle carpet steam-cleaning fee: $120 (Bride's share: $60)

Bridal bouquet: $35 (Synthetic plastic flowers, paid 100% by Bride)

The bottom line was highlighted in an obnoxious, glaring red:

Bride's Parents VIP Table Seat Occupation & Beverage Wear-and-Tear: $200 per hour, estimated 4 hours, total: $800.

"Natalie, look at the math," Kevin said when his call broke through. His voice sounded calm, like an employer offering a generous concession to a struggling worker.

"I laid it all out. If your folks really can't manage a hundred thousand, fifty thousand will do. We can deduct the remaining fifty thousand from your monthly living allowance over time—two thousand a month."

"Kevin, you're charging my parents two hundred dollars an hour just to sit on chairs at our wedding?" I asked, gripping the phone tightly.

"It's not a charge, it's cost-sharing," Kevin chuckled lightly on the line.

"Natalie, stop thinking like a peasant. The seats at the main table are reserved for high-value business contacts. Every chair taken by someone who doesn't bring in capital is an opportunity lost. Charging two hundred an hour is the discounted family rate."

"They won't be attending," I said.

There was a two-second pause before he laughed dismissively.

"What, are the old folks throwing a tantrum now? Natalie, they might be clueless about social etiquette, but you should know better. Everyone back in their hometown knows about this wedding. If they don't sit at the head table, the neighbors will talk behind their backs forever."

"They don't care about gossip."

"Don't be spiteful." Kevin's tone softened into a patronizing coo.

"Come on, drop the attitude. Did you pick up Chloe's veil yet? She's arriving at my office at ten-thirty. Bring it over, and you can sign the vendor contracts while you're here. I booked a table at that brunch spot around the corner. I'll treat you to pancakes, okay?"

It was always like this.

Shatter every shred of my dignity, then toss me a stale piece of candy to keep me quiet.

"I'm not coming," I told him.

"Natalie, don't push your luck." Kevin's voice dipped low, warning me.

"I'm being patient because I care about you and want to build a life with you. But if you embarrass me in front of Chloe by acting petty, I will enforce fifty-fifty on every single detail of this wedding."

"Run your numbers however you want."

"Fine. You want to play hardball?" Kevin scoffed.

"I'm removing their seats from the main table right now. And when Chloe walks into my office at ten-thirty and doesn't see her veil, you can explain it to her yourself."

The line went dead.

I set the phone down and unbuckled the faded, scratched wristwatch from my left wrist.

The leather strap was so worn the original color was gone, and a hairline fracture ran across the edge of the glass.

It was the only personal effect recovered from the wreckage of my parents' crushed sedan four years ago in that blizzard.

I placed it carefully inside a small jewelry case and zipped it into the deepest compartment of my tote bag.

The apartment door clicked shut behind me as I turned the deadbolt.

I left my keys on the entryway shoe rack, resting squarely on top of the pink parcel slip for Chloe's veil.

Downstairs, the morning sun was almost blindingly bright.

I hailed a rideshare, setting the destination for North Mountain Cemetery.

On my phone, the tracking status for the package I had shipped to Kevin's office updated:

Out for delivery. Estimated arrival: 10:25 AM.