Natalie’s smile disappeared.
“No,” he said. “How dare you enter my wedding after seventeen years and say that you dreamed of this day?”
The living room was completely still.
“You didn’t dream about this day,” Natalie continued. “Dad himself. Dad stayed. Dad raised us. Dad worked until he could barely stand, and then he would come home and prepare dinner for six girls. Dad hugged us when we were crying for you. Dad defended you even when you didn’t deserve it.”
Monica looked at me.
Then he looked at the guests.
No one defended her.
Even Adrian, her rich husband, looked away.
Claire stepped up, crying.
“Dad never turned us against you,” he said. “He protected your name. You ruined it alone.”
Monica’s lips trembled, but she had no answer.
Natalie closed the box.
“I don’t do this to ruin my wedding,” she said. “I do it because I won’t let a lie sit at my table today.”
