“There is no wedding next Saturday,” he said.
Denise stared at the ring.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I mean we are not getting married next Saturday.”
“Because of a haircut?”
“Because I asked you three times what happened, and you lied three times.”
She reached for his arm.
He stepped back.
The movement was small, but it seemed to frighten her more than the locked gates.
“Robert, I was under pressure.
You know how much I have managed for this wedding.
The seating chart, the flowers, your family, her family.
I wanted one day where everything looked right.”
“Theresa is not a decoration.”
Denise’s mouth tightened.
“You barely know her.”
“I know she said no.”
A delivery van turned into the driveway.
The driver slowed when he saw the group at the gates.
Celia walked over, spoke to him through the window and directed him to turn around.
Denise watched the van leave.
Panic finally broke through her anger.
“Those are the imported roses.
They are already paid for.”
“The order is suspended,” my mother said.
“You cannot suspend it.”
“I guaranteed the account.”
“Then I’ll pay it myself.”
Celia held out her hand.
“The remaining vendor balance is $28,460.
That does not include a replacement venue, new transport arrangements or rush fees.”
Denise’s confidence flickered again.
She had spent months telling everyone that she had paid for an extravagant wedding.
In reality, Robert had covered the honeymoon, my mother had provided the estate and guaranteed most of the vendors, and Denise had contributed mainly by choosing expensive additions.
“This is extortion,” she said.
Nathan shook his head.
“No one is demanding payment.
The license has been revoked.
The vendors are following their contracts.”
He opened a second envelope.
“There is another matter.”
Denise looked at me.
“What have you done?”
I kept my voice steady.
“I took Theresa to urgent care last night.”
After Denise left our house, Theresa complained that her scalp hurt.
The doctor documented two small cuts near her right ear, redness across her shoulders and the uneven sections where the scissors had passed dangerously close to her skin.
The nurse asked Theresa what happened without allowing me to answer for her.
Theresa told the truth.
Because she was a child reporting that an adult had restrained and injured her, the clinic followed mandatory reporting procedures.
I had also filed a police report.
Denise’s face changed.
“You called the police over this?”
“The clinic called first.
I gave a statement and provided the video.”
