“You ruin the vibe, Yara. I need people who actually want me happy.”
“Fine,” I said. “Then send back the money I already spent.”
She snorted—and hung up.
After that, she ignored me. Mom backed her.
“Don’t keep score with family,” Mom said.
“She’s not family when she needs money and a stranger when I need respect.”
By the week of the wedding, relatives had turned on me.
Someone told Dan’s sister I was jealous because I was divorced.
That one stung.
The wedding morning was bright and cold.
I was home, making coffee I didn’t want, reorganizing drawers just to stay busy.
Then I heard a horn.
One white car pulled into my yard. Then another. And another.
The entire wedding motorcade stopped outside my house.
Dan stepped out in his tux.
Lila followed, veil in place, furious.
Guests filled my yard.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Dan held up a thick envelope.
“I found out something interesting this morning,” he said loudly.
“Something my fiancée never told me.”
Silence fell.
“I knew Yara helped. I didn’t know she paid for so much while Lila let everyone believe otherwise.”
Lila went pale.
“Dan—”
“No.”
“I found the receipts,” he said.
“Yara covered the dress, flowers, catering. Then Lila uninvited her when the money stopped.”
Gasps rippled.
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