Chapter 4: Four Days, Four Vendors, and a Father Who Finally Calls
I was back at my desk within ten minutes.
The meeting had ended.
My supervisor had left a note asking me to follow up on the quarterly projections.
I set it aside and opened a new tab.
The first thing I searched was estate litigation attorneys in the city.
I needed someone who handled trust disputes, fraudulent coercion, and document forgery.
I needed someone good.
I needed someone fast.
By noon I had an appointment for the following morning.
At 12:47, Julian called again.
I let it go to voicemail.
At 1:15, Chloe called.
I let that go too.
At 2:03, my mother called for the fourth time, and I finally answered.
"What is happening?" she said.
The panic in her voice was not the kind that comes from concern.
It was the kind that comes from consequences arriving ahead of schedule.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I said.
"Cedar Grove called Julian.
They said the primary account holder withdrew funding and the contract liability has transferred.
The florist said the same thing.
The caterer—"
"Is also aware," I said.
"Yes."
"You cannot do this." Her voice dropped.
"The wedding is in four days."
"I'm aware.
I mentioned that to Cedar Grove myself."
"This is your brother's wedding.
This is our family."
"Mom." I kept my voice even.
"Julian sent a message to twenty people calling me a loser and telling me I wasn't invited.
Dad liked it.
I'm not sure what version of family you're describing, but it doesn't match the one I experienced this morning."
Silence.
"You're being dramatic," she said finally.
"I'm being contractual."
She inhaled sharply.
"Your father wants to talk to you."
I heard the shuffle of the phone changing hands.
Then my father's voice — the voice that had lectured me about loyalty for thirty years.
"Son." He used the word like a tool.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot today."
"Did you like Julian's message?" I asked.
A pause.
"I may have tapped something by accident—"
"Dad.
You liked a message that called me a loser and told me I wasn't invited to a wedding I paid for.
That's not an accident.
That's a choice."
"Julian is under a lot of stress—"
"I'm going to stop you there," I said.
"I'm not calling to negotiate.
I'm calling to let you know that I've exercised my rights under every contract I signed.
If Julian wants to restore the vendors, he'll need to put his own name on new agreements and fund them himself." I paused.
"I'd also suggest he do it quickly.
Cedar Grove has a waitlist."
"You're going to destroy this family over a text message?"
I looked at the attorney's name I had written on the notepad in front of me.
"No," I said.
"I'm not."
I ended the call.
Three minutes later, a new message appeared in the family group chat.
Not from Julian.
Not from Mom.
From my father.
It was a screenshot.
A photograph I had never seen — me, at maybe fourteen, standing next to Grandma Eleanor in her garden.
She had her hand on my shoulder.
She was smiling.
The caption my father wrote beneath it was four words.
*She would be ashamed.*
My jaw tightened.
I stared at the screen for a long moment.
May you like
Then I typed Marcus's number into a new message and sent three words of my own.
*Send me everything.*
