He swallowed and began reading aloud.
“‘Notice of withdrawal of financial authorization and cancellation of third-party payment guarantee, effective immediately.’”
The room grew quiet.
Brooke’s lips parted.
Daniel continued.
“‘All payments made by Judith Miller toward the wedding of Ethan Miller and Brooke Hayes were made under a conditional agreement requiring the continued participation, acknowledgment, and respectful treatment of the named financial guarantor.’”
Brooke laughed sharply.
“That’s ridiculous.”
Daniel turned the page.
“‘Upon public removal, exclusion, or deliberate humiliation of the guarantor, all remaining services are to be suspended, all unused funds returned to the guarantor, and all vendors notified that the contracting party has breached the agreement.’”
For a moment, no one moved.
Then the bartender quietly removed a bottle of champagne from the ice bucket.
Brooke stared at me.
“You can’t cancel a wedding because you’re offended.”
“I didn’t cancel your wedding,” I said. “You did.”
Ethan finally looked at me.
His face had gone pale.
“Mom…”
The sound of that word nearly broke me.
Not because it was tender.
Because it was the first time he had used it all evening.
Daniel picked up the phone.
“Catering?” he said. “Please place the dinner service on hold. Yes, immediately. The financial guarantor has withdrawn authorization.”
A server stopped carrying trays.
The photographer lowered his camera.
The florist began removing arrangements from the tables.
One by one, the beautiful things I had paid for began disappearing.
Brooke grabbed Ethan’s arm.
“Do something!”
Ethan looked at me.
“What do you want?” he asked.
The question was so small, so pathetic, that I almost laughed.
“I wanted you to defend me before I had to ask.”
He looked down.
Brooke stepped forward. “You’re cruel.”
I turned to her.
“No, Brooke. Cruelty is accepting money from someone while planning to humiliate her. This is consequence.”
Her face twisted.
“You think you’re powerful because you can write checks?”
“No,” I said. “I think I’m powerful because I finally stopped writing them.”
At that moment, Margaret entered the room.
She wore a black suit, carried a leather folder, and was accompanied by two people I did not recognize.
One was a gray-haired man in a navy blazer.
The other was a young woman with a tablet.
Ethan stared at them.
“Who are they?”
Margaret came to stand beside me.
“The gentleman is Mr. Paul Reyes from the bank’s fraud division,” she said. “The young woman is Ms. Lena Patel, a forensic accountant.”
Brooke’s expression changed.
It happened quickly, but I saw it.
Fear.
