My fiancé, Daniel, stepped forward in anger to defend me, but I gently touched his sleeve and asked him to wait. My mother laughed softly and accused me of being dramatic, just as the bridal room door opened to reveal my eighty-one-year-old grandfather, Arthur. Leaning on his black cane and wearing a neat navy suit that was cleaner than my parents’ consciences, Grandpa Arthur demanded to know what my mother had just said. When Margaret told him to stay out of family business and my father warned him not to cause a scene, Grandpa Arthur ignored them both and took my hand. He promised to walk me down the aisle himself, assuring me softly that I was never a regret and that I was the only person who had ever come back searching for the truth.
My mother’s confident smile flickered briefly before the church organ began to play in the hallway. Outside, the sanctuaries pews were packed with relatives, neighbors, business partners, and wealthy donors from the Stone Family Foundation who all believed my parents were respectable people. Margaret lifted her chin and walked out to take her seat, completely unaware that I had spent the past eighteen months using my professional training to trace every single dollar they had ever taken from me.
