The screenshots were attached.
Within minutes, Daniel’s phone erupted.
The caterer demanded certified payment before unloading dinner. The florist refused to release the remaining arrangements. The photographer paused coverage. The DJ requested full settlement.
Vivian’s face crumpled as notifications hit one after another.
“You monster,” she whispered.
I stood, smoothing my dress. “No, Vivian. I’m just not your wallet anymore.”
Outside, guests began murmuring. Daniel’s parents arrived, saw the chaos, and pulled him aside. Their voices rose—words slipping through the glass.
Fraud.
Debt.
Lied to us.
