“There is one alternative,” Marcus said through Daniel’s speakerphone.
“But it requires Mrs.
Vale’s signed statement before midnight.”
Everyone in our living room turned toward me.
Bianca stood beside the coffee table with one hand still stretched toward Daniel’s phone.
Mom clutched her handbag against her ribs.
Tristan had stopped smirking.
The venue contract lay open between us.
Beside it rested Daniel’s black leather portfolio, the silver crest of Vale Hospitality Holdings catching the light.
For the first time since Bianca had pushed that gold-edged invitation away from me, no one looked certain that I was the least important person in the room.
“What statement?” Bianca demanded.
Marcus answered without emotion.
“A written declaration that Mrs.
Vale personally authorized you to use her name when requesting preferred-family concessions.”
Bianca looked at me.
“Fine.
Sign it.”
Not please.
Not I’m sorry.
Just another command.
I glanced at the contract.
“Did I authorize you?”
Her mouth tightened.
“You’re my sister.
It was implied.”
“You told me I was not family enough to attend your party.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Nora, this is not the time to be emotional.”
Daniel’s eyes moved to her, but I touched his wrist before he could speak.
I wanted this part to be mine.
“I’m not emotional,” I said.
“I’m asking a factual question.
Did I give Bianca permission to use my name?”
No one answered.
Marcus did.
“Without that authorization, the preferred rates and complimentary upgrades were obtained under false representation.
The hotel can either enforce the original contract or terminate under the misconduct provision.”
Bianca folded her arms.
“What does enforcing the original contract mean?”
“The smaller ballroom.
One hundred twenty guests.
Approved vendors only.
No external lighting rig, no champagne wall, no rooftop photography, and no access before three in the afternoon.
The outstanding balance is due by ten tomorrow morning.”
“That ruins everything.”
“It provides exactly what you purchased.”
Tristan leaned toward the phone.
“Do you understand who you’re speaking to?”
Marcus paused.
“Yes, sir.
Do you?”
Daniel lowered his head to hide the beginning of a smile.
Bianca snatched the contract from the table and flipped through it.
She had probably signed the document after reading only the ballroom name and total price.
Her parties had always been built on the assumption that rules softened around her.
“The deposit alone was forty thousand dollars,” she said.
“Correct,” Marcus replied.
“You can’t keep that.”
“The contract allows it if the venue terminates because of client misconduct or material misrepresentation.”
Mom turned to me.
“You cannot let your sister lose that kind of money.”
There it was.
Not you cannot let your sister treat you this way.
Not Bianca should apologize.
The emergency was still Bianca’s comfort.
“I’m not taking her money,” I said.
“I’m refusing to sign a false statement.”
Bianca’s voice sharpened.
“You’re hiding behind paperwork because you’re jealous.
You saw my party and realized you could never afford anything like it.”
Daniel straightened, but again I spoke first.
“You could not afford it either.
That’s why you used my name.”
The sentence landed harder than shouting would have.
Tristan looked away.
Mom’s grip tightened on her bag.
Bianca stared at me as if I had broken an unspoken rule by naming the obvious.
Marcus cleared his throat through the speaker.
“I need
