Chapter 4: The Message From the Groom
The wedding coordinator turned the tablet toward me.
The message was short.
I need to know who actually paid for this wedding. Chloe told me her father covered the expenses. If that isn't true, please don't let anyone charge another dollar to my account.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at my daughter.
“Chloe, what does this mean?””
She reached for the tablet.
“Give me that.””
The coordinator pulled it back slightly.
“I'm sorry, but this is part of the wedding account correspondence. I can't simply delete it.””
“I didn't ask you to delete anything!””
“You asked me to give you the tablet,” the coordinator replied evenly.
“I need to maintain an accurate record of the account.””
Chloe turned to me.
“Dad, this is being blown completely out of proportion.””
“Your fiancé thinks I paid for this wedding.””
“He misunderstood.””
“Did you tell him I paid?””
She pressed her lips together.
“Answer me.””
“Yes.””
The word was barely audible.
My wife, standing beside me, closed her eyes for a moment.
I felt something inside my chest sink.
“Why?”” I asked.
Chloe looked toward the floral arch, where the photographer had quietly begun directing guests away from our family-photo area.
“Because I knew he'd ask questions.””
“What questions?””
“About the money!””
Her voice cracked on the last word.
For the first time that morning, her anger seemed to be giving way to panic.
She pushed a loose strand of hair back beneath her veil, then glanced at the tablet again.
“He wanted a smaller wedding,” she explained.
“I wanted something special. We argued about the venue, the flowers, the reception. He kept saying we needed to save money.””
“So you told him I was paying?””
“I told him you were helping.””
“That message says you told him I covered the expenses.””
“I didn't think he'd care about the details!””
I stared at her.
“Thirty-two thousand dollars is not a detail.””
Chloe flinched.
My wife spoke softly.
“Did your fiancé know I paid the first eighty-five thousand?””
“No.””
“Did he know I was paying from my own savings?””
Chloe shook her head.
“Did you tell him you were contributing your own money?””
My daughter didn't answer.
That silence told us more than another confession would have.
I handed the invoices to my wife, then stepped away from the guests so we could speak without turning the ceremony area into a public courtroom.
Chloe followed.
“Dad, please. I need you to help me fix this.””
“I'm listening.””
“Tell him you agreed to pay.””
“I never agreed to pay eighty-five thousand dollars.””
“But you paid for things before. You helped with my engagement party.””
“That was a gift. This was your wedding.””
“You're my father!””
“And that doesn't give you permission to put my name on a financial promise I never made.””
She looked as though I had struck her with the sentence.
Behind her, Mrs. Bennett remained beside the coordinator. She was examining the invoices again, not because she doubted the figures, but because she seemed to need something concrete to hold on to while her family fell apart around her.
Chloe followed my gaze.
“She's going to tell him everything, isn't she?””
My wife heard her.
“I haven't spoken to your fiancé about any of this.””
“But you're going to.””
“I won't lie for you.””
Chloe's eyes flashed.
“You could at least give me a chance to explain.””
“You've had months to explain,” Mrs. Bennett replied.
“You've had months to tell the truth.””
Chloe turned away.
I wanted to believe there was a reasonable explanation hiding somewhere beneath her defensiveness. Perhaps she'd panicked about the costs. Perhaps she'd made a promise she couldn't keep and then become too embarrassed to admit it.
But the slap had changed the way I saw the situation.
My daughter hadn't merely lost control. She had looked at the woman who had paid $85,000 for her wedding and decided that woman was beneath her.
And when the truth came out, she had demanded another $32,000.
“Where is your fiancé?”” I asked.
“In the groom's suite.””
“Have you spoken to him?””
“Not since he sent that message.””
“Then go talk to him.””
Her eyes widened.
“What? No. Not now.””
“Why not?””
“Because he'll cancel everything.””
The fear in her voice was unmistakable.
My wife slowly lifted her head.
“Chloe, is there something else we need to know?””
“No.””
“Look at me.””
Chloe reluctantly faced her.
“Is there something else?””
For a long moment, the only sound was the rustle of dresses as guests moved toward the reception area.
Then Chloe whispered, “I can explain the money.””
My stomach tightened.
“What money?”” I asked.
She swallowed.
“The thirty-two thousand.””
“You just told us you were going to handle it.””
“I was.””
“With what?””
She looked at me, and her eyes filled with tears.
“I thought I could move some things around before anyone noticed.””
My wife went pale.
“Move what things around?””
Chloe stared at the floor.
“I didn't steal anything.””
Nobody had accused her of stealing.
That was what frightened me.
I stepped closer.
“Chloe, what did you do?””
She shook her head rapidly.
“I can't explain this here.””
“Then tell us somewhere private.””
“No, Dad. You don't understand. If I tell him before I fix it, he'll think I've been lying about everything.””
“Have you?””
She began to cry.
“I made a mistake.””
My wife spoke with painful calm.
“A mistake is ordering the wrong flowers. A mistake is forgetting a seating chart. You don't get to hide financial decisions from people who are paying the bills and then call the consequences a mistake.””
Chloe wiped her face with the back of her hand, careful not to disturb her makeup.
“I know what I did.””
“Then tell the truth,” I said.
Before she could respond, a man appeared at the entrance to the family-photo area.
He wore a dark navy suit and a white rose boutonniere. His tie was slightly loose, and his expression was so controlled that it took me a moment to recognize the anger behind it.
Ethan, Chloe's fiancé.
He was holding his phone.
His gaze moved from the coordinator to the invoices in my wife's hands, then settled on Chloe.
“Tell me something,” he said.
Chloe stopped crying.
“Ethan, sweetheart—”
“Did your father pay for this wedding?””
She opened her mouth.
Ethan raised his phone.
“Because I just received an email with the payment records.””
Chloe went completely still.
Then Ethan looked at Mrs. Bennett.
“Ma'am, I'm sorry. I don't even know what to say.””
My wife drew a slow breath.
“You don't owe me an apology for asking questions.””
Ethan nodded, but he didn't take his eyes off Chloe.
“I need to ask her something else.””
He turned toward his bride.
“Chloe, before I walk down that aisle, I need to know whether the woman you slapped is the same woman you've been telling me you don't have to thank anymore.””
May you like
My daughter stared at him.
And then Ethan opened the email.