My dad laughed and told me to walk myself down the aisle because I was marrying a nobody. Mom sat beside him in the back row while I walked alone, gripping my bouquet.

For several long seconds, the entire chapel remained frozen.

Then my father laughed.

It wasn’t the polished, friendly laugh he used at charity galas or business events. This one sounded harsh, strained, and edged with fear.

“This is ridiculous,” he said. “Maya, tell your little courthouse husband to stop embarrassing himself.”

Ethan clenched his jaw but stayed silent.

I looked directly at him.

“What evidence?”

He drew a slow breath.

“After your father called my office threatening to destroy my career, I looked into the foundation he mentioned. The Whitmore Hope Fund.”

A wave of nausea settled in my stomach.