Vivian ran after him barefoot, veil half-pinned, screaming that I had ruined everything. But she didn’t need my help. She had built the entire beautiful disaster herself and simply forgotten who owned the foundation.
Mark and I left through the side garden.
At the gate, my mother hurried after me, lipstick trembling.
“Claire, please. She’s your sister.”
I turned back.
“She was my sister when she mocked my body. You were my mother when you stayed silent.”
Her eyes filled.
I didn’t wait for an apology that would only come because consequences had.
Three months later, a thick envelope arrived from my attorney.
Daniel had been reported by two vendors for attempted payment fraud. Vivian’s wedding had collapsed into a backyard ceremony with supermarket flowers and no photographer willing to release images without payment. My parents took out a loan to cover part of the vendor fallout, then stopped answering Vivian’s calls when she demanded honeymoon money too.
READ MORE ON THE NEXT PAGE..
