“You can’t do that. It’s my wedding.”
“Actually, I can,” I said, “and I did. Every contract was in my name, with my signature, paid for with my money.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, her voice suddenly small. “Why would you do this to me?”
I met her gaze steadily.
“Last night, you made a request. You asked me to give you a gift—to disappear from your life. You called me the worst mother anyone could have.”
The words still stung, but my voice remained even.
“I’ve decided to honor your request. This is the first step.”
Amber’s phone began to ring—Blake’s ringtone. She answered it with trembling hands.
“Blake, something’s wrong. My mother says she canceled the wedding. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
His voice was tiny through the speaker, equally confused and increasingly alarmed.
I gestured for Amber to follow me into the kitchen, where I’d laid out the documentation of my overnight work.
“I need to go,” Amber told Blake abruptly. “Come to my mom’s house now.”
She ended the call and stared at the papers spread across my kitchen table.
“What is all this?”
“This,” I said, picking up the first folder, “is the truth about your perfect life.”
“What are you talking about? What truth?” Amber’s voice wavered between anger and fear as she stared at the array of documents.
“Please sit down,” I said, gesturing to a chair.
For once, Amber complied without argument—perhaps too stunned by the cancellation bombshell to resist.
I selected the first folder labeled Wedding and opened it.
“This contains every contract, deposit slip, and payment confirmation for the wedding that won’t be happening today.” I tapped the summary page. “Total expenditure: $78,452.36. All paid from my accounts.”
Amber’s eyes widened.
“But… Blake’s parents contributed—”
“Nothing,” I finished for her. “Despite what you led them to believe.”
A flush crept up her neck.
“I never said they were paying. They just assumed, and it was easier to let them think that—”
“That I couldn’t afford to give my daughter a proper wedding,” I supplied. “That you were graciously including your embarrassing mother, despite the financial burden it placed on you and Blake’s family.”
The direct hit landed. Amber’s flush deepened.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that, Amber.”
I pulled out a specific document—an email from Victoria Prescott to the country club’s event coordinator that Amber had accidentally forwarded to me months ago.
“Your future mother-in-law specifically mentioned how kind Blake was to subsidize such an extravagant affair when the bride’s family clearly couldn’t manage it.”
Amber’s eyes skittered away from mine.
“Victoria is just… she says things sometimes. It doesn’t mean anything.”
