Then another voice came through the recording.
Elise’s.
She confirmed that I had “always wanted her to have the wedding she deserved.”
On-screen, my sister’s face went pale.
“That was taken out of context,” she said quickly.
The agent closed the red folder.
“It sounded very clear.”
Elise looked at me through the camera.
“Owen, we can fix this privately.”
“Privately?” I asked.
“You announced the villa to two hundred people.”
“We’ll pay you back.”
“With what?”
Her silence answered for her.
Elise had not held a steady job in almost a year.
Her fiancé, Marcus, worked in sales and earned a decent living, but their lifestyle depended on credit cards, family gifts, and the assumption that someone else would solve the problem before the bill arrived.
My college fund had not been their emergency plan.
It had been their first plan.
Mom leaned toward the camera.
