Turn to the next chapter and discover what happens next.

-6-

The wrought-iron gates of Cedar Grove Estate were wide open, but the picturesque driveway was completely blocked by a massive, idling refrigerated delivery truck belonging to the catering company—except the driver wasn't unloading food. He was packing empty crates back into the trailer.

I parked my car on the shoulder of the country road, stepped out, and walked up the gravel drive toward the grand manor.

The contrast between yesterday’s pristine illusion and today’s stark reality was staggering. Several guests in expensive morning suits and floor-length pastel dresses were milling about the front lawn in confused clusters, holding flutes of lukewarm tap water because the bar had already been shut down. Inside the glass pavilion, the florists were furiously stripping down the imported white wisteria arrangements from the arches, boxing them back up into transport bins because the floral balance remained unpaid.

As I approached the main entrance, the heavy oak doors flew open, and Julian stormed out onto the stone porch.

He looked like a man who had completely unraveled. His silk tuxedo jacket was missing, his crisp white dress shirt was untucked and stained with sweat, and his hair was wildly disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot and frantic as he scanned the lawn, looking for someone—anyone—to blame.

Then, he saw me.

For a second, Julian froze. Then, a primal wave of rage twisted his features, and he charged down the stone steps toward me, ignoring the staring guests, the stripping florists, and the bewildered relatives watching from the terrace.

"You!" Julian shrieked, his voice cracking with hysteria as he closed the distance. He lunged forward, grabbing the lapels of my coat with both hands. "You did this! You absolute psychopath! You ruined my wedding!"

I didn't flinch. I didn't raise my hands. I simply looked down at his trembling fingers gripping my clothes, then raised my eyes to meet his frantic gaze.

"I didn't ruin your wedding, Julian," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "I simply stopped financing your fraud."

"You canceled the contracts!" he screamed, spraying spittle in his fury. "The caterers walked out! The photographer isn't coming! The florist is packing up the flowers! Chloe is locked in the bridal suite having a panic attack, and her uncle just called off the partnership! My entire life is destroyed, and you're standing here smiling?"

"I’m not smiling, Julian," I replied, gently reaching up and peeling his hands off my coat lapels with effortless strength. I smoothed down my fabric where he had creased it. "I’m just observing the natural consequences of building your entire life on other people's money."

Behind Julian, the front doors opened again, and Dad stepped out onto the porch. His face was thunderous, his posture stiff with wounded aristocratic pride. He marched down the steps, pointing a shaking finger at me.

"Have you no shame?" Dad roared, his voice trembling with furious disbelief. "This is your brother! Your own flesh and blood! You humiliated him in front of high-society guests, you sabotaged his career, and you come here to gloat? What kind of monster are you?"

I turned my attention from Julian to my father, feeling a strange, hollow sort of pity. For thirty years, I had bent over backwards trying to earn this man’s respect, trying to prove that I was worthy of his love. And standing here today, watching him defend a pathological liar while screaming at the son who had kept him out of bankruptcy, I realized how utterly pathetic my past self had been.

"I’m not a monster, Dad," I said quietly, stepping closer so only the two of them could hear. "I’m just the guy who stopped paying your bills."

Dad flinched as if I had physically struck him across the face. "We are your family!"

"No," I corrected him, my voice dropping an octave into an icy register that made both of them step back. "Family helps family. What you did was treat me like a wallet with a pulse. You thought you could throw me out of a wedding I paid for, insult me in a group chat, and expect me to smile while you drained my bank accounts."