Brenda’s wedding binder was her new Bible. It sat on the coffee table, bursting with fabric swatches, seating charts, and photos of ornate venues. Every decision was painstakingly made, from the fifteen-layer cake to the imported orchids she insisted were non-negotiable. “It has to be perfect, Ryan,” she said, flipping through pages. “This isn’t just a wedding—it’s a statement.”
It had to be flawless. Not for love, but for power—for control.
“We need ice sculptures of swans,” Brenda announced during a meeting with her wedding planner, gesturing wildly at her mood board. “And not just any swans. They have to look like they’re about to take flight. Dramatic, powerful, unforgettable!”
The planner hesitated, glancing at Ryan, who sat slouched in a chair, nursing a drink. “That might be difficult to arrange on short notice,” the planner ventured cautiously.
Brenda’s eyes narrowed, her smile razor-sharp. “Then make it happen. You’re the best in the business, aren’t you?”
Ryan rubbed his temples as Brenda continued her tirade about matching embroidered napkins and chandeliers flown in from Paris. “Brenda, isn’t this a little much?” he muttered.
She turned on him with an almost predatory gleam in her eyes. “Too much? This is the wedding of the century, Ryan. It’s what Caleb deserves. It’s what we deserve.”
Ryan opened his mouth to argue, but Brenda cut him off, producing her phone and shoving it in his face. “Look at this,” she said, showing him a photo of Amelia and Hale at the vineyard. “Your ex is gallivanting with your enemy, practically handing him the ammunition to destroy you, and you’re worried about napkins?”
Ryan’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the photo. Amelia’s radiant smile made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t quite place.
“She’s moved on, Ryan,” Brenda purred, leaning closer. “And maybe it’s time you did too.” Her voice softened as she placed a manicured hand on his arm. “Forget her. Forget what she did to you, to us. This is our fresh start. Don’t you want that?”
Ryan looked at her, conflicted. He wanted stability for Caleb, a semblance of order in his chaotic life. Brenda saw the hesitation in his eyes and pressed further.
“She didn’t care when she handed your secrets to Hale. Why should you care about her anymore? We’re your family now.”
Ryan took a long sip from his glass, avoiding her gaze.
________________
At school, Damien’s friends had plenty to say about the upcoming wedding.
“My mom says your dad’s marrying that lady,” one boy said, his tone smug. “Guess your parents aren’t getting back together.”
Damien’s stomach churned. “Shut up,” he muttered, shoving his books into his backpack.
That evening, Damien sat in the backseat as Amelia drove them home. He was unusually quiet, staring out the window with a frown. Finally, he broke his silence.
“Does Dad’s wedding mean he doesn’t care about us anymore?” he asked.
Amelia felt her throat tighten. She pulled into the driveway and turned to face him, forcing herself to speak calmly. “Your dad loves you and Debby more than anything. This wedding isn’t about you, okay?”
“But it feels like it is,” Damien said softly.
From the backseat, Debby piped up, her voice small. “Does he love her more than us?”
Amelia’s heart ached as she reached back to squeeze their hands. “Your dad’s choices don’t change how much he loves you. I promise.”