Chapter 2
The ballroom held its breath.
The little girl’s lip trembled.
“Clara,” she said, her voice cracking. “My mom’s name is Clara Bennett.”
My father’s legs gave out.
Ethan caught him before he hit the floor.
“Clara’s alive?” Robert whispered, his eyes wild. “I thought… I thought she died in that car crash with her mother.”
No one spoke.
My mother, Margaret, stood frozen three feet away. Her face was white as the wedding dress I’d spent six months picking out. She’d been married to Robert for thirty-two years. She’d never heard the name Clara Bennett before tonight.
The little girl wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. The red mark from Diane’s slap was already blooming purple across her skin.
“Mom’s sick,” she said. “Really sick. She said if anything happened to her, I had to find you. She said you’re my grandpa.”
Diane made a sharp, disgusted sound beside me.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” she said, crossing her arms. “Some random kid shows up with a twenty-year-old photo and suddenly we’re supposed to believe she’s family? This is a scam. She’s after your money, Robert.”
Ethan turned on his mother.
“Shut up,” he said. “You just slapped her. You don’t get to talk.”
Diane’s mouth fell open.
“Ethan! I’m your mother—”
“You hit an eight-year-old girl,” he repeated, his voice cold. “I don’t care what you thought she did. That was unforgivable.”
I stared at my husband. For the first time all night, I felt a flicker of pride. But it vanished fast when I glanced back at my father.
Robert was on his knees now, level with the little girl. He reached out a shaking hand, then hesitated, like he was scared she’d flinch away.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked softly.
“Lila.”
“Lila,” he repeated, like he was tasting the word. “Where is your mom right now?”
“Northwestern Memorial Hospital. The oncology floor. She has leukemia. The doctors say she needs a bone marrow transplant, and she can’t find a match. She told me to find you because… because you’re the only family we have left.”
Robert let out a broken sob.
He pulled Lila into his arms. She stiffened for half a second, then melted against him, crying into his shoulder. The photographers who’d been hired for my wedding were snapping pictures like crazy. I saw flashes out of the corner of my eye. My perfect wedding was officially over.
Margaret turned and walked away without a word.
I started to follow her, then stopped. Diane was leaning against a pillar, watching Robert and Lila, her face twisted with something that looked almost like fear. Not guilt—fear. Like this little girl showing up had just destroyed some plan she’d spent years building.
“Where’s your necklace, Diane?” I asked quietly.
She blinked at me, her mask snapping back into place instantly.
“I told you—she stole it.”
“Her hand was empty. There was no necklace. Just a photo.”
“She must have hidden it somewhere before we got to her. I’ll have the hotel staff search every inch of this place. That necklace was forty thousand dollars, Ava. It’s not something I’m just going to forget about.”
She pushed off the pillar and walked away, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. I watched her go, a cold knot forming in my stomach. I’d never liked Diane. She’d always been snobby, always made comments about how my family’s “new money” wasn’t good enough for her son. But tonight? Tonight she’d shown me a side of herself I’d never imagined. Cruel. Reckless. Scared.
Ethan came up beside me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “About my mom. About all of this. Your wedding… it’s ruined.”
I looked at my father, still holding Lila like she was the most precious thing in the world. I looked at the empty spot where my mother had been standing. I thought about the cake I’d never get to cut, the first dance we’d never get to have, all the dreams I’d had for this night turning to ash in front of me.
“It’s not your fault,” I said, but my voice was hollow. “Not all of it, anyway.”
My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from an unknown number.
I opened it.
The photo made my blood run cold.
It was Diane, ten minutes before the slap, standing at the hotel front desk. She was handing her diamond necklace to the concierge, putting it in the hotel safe.
There was no theft.
There never had been.
Diane had lied. She’d slapped an eight-year-old girl, ruined my wedding, and all for what? A distraction?
I looked up and locked eyes with her across the room.
She knew I’d seen the text.
May you like
Her face went pale.
Then she turned and ran.
