Chapter 4Not Your Billion Dollar ATM

I looked at Garrett.

His eyes were red. He was gazing up at the screen, his Adam's apple bobbing, completely lost in a haze of self-pitying tragedy.

“Garrett,” I called out.

He didn’t hear me. He was looking out at the crowd.

I followed his gaze.

At the sixth table, a woman was standing up.

She wore a pure-white, delicate lace dress, a style that was disturbingly similar to my own gown. Wearing a dress that looked like a wedding dress to someone else’s ceremony is the ultimate, universally understood act of provocation.

But now, she covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, the perfect picture of an innocent woman both deeply wounded and overwhelmed with emotion.

It was Jocelyn.

“That is enough!”

A roar came from the main table. My father, shaking with rage, slammed his wine glass onto the floor. The shattering of crystal was shocking and loud. My mother went pale, clinging to the table edge to keep from falling.

Their daughter, whom they had cherished, was being trod upon like trash on her most important day.

“Family, please, settle down!”

Garrett’s parents immediately rushed forward, grabbing my father’s arms. Garrett’s father forced a smile, but his words were chilling.

“It’s just the kids’ idea of a joke! Kids these days are always stirring things up for a little fun! If us parents get angry now, we’ll just embarrass the kids. Don’t make a spectacle for the rest of the guests!”

An idea?

Broadcasting photos of the groom making out with his ex-girlfriend at his current wife’s wedding—that was an idea?

My father struggled to get to the stage, but Garrett’s beefy relatives held him in a death grip.