Chapter 3: Ask Him Yourself
My stepdad picked up his keys.
He looked at my fiancé — not at me — and said four words.
"Ask your future wife."
Then he walked out the front door.
The sound of it closing was quiet.
That made it worse.
Daniel stood in the middle of the room, still in his jacket, still holding the small bag he'd brought over for the rehearsal dinner.
He looked at the bill on the table.
He looked at me.
"What does he mean?
What's going on, Lena?"
My throat was still locked from the call.
From my biological father's laugh.
From forty thousand dollars that nobody had paid.
"The venue hasn't been paid," I said.
"The deposit.
All of it.
If it's not covered by nine tomorrow morning, we lose the date."
Daniel set the bag down slowly.
"How much?"
"Forty thousand."
He didn't say anything for a moment.
"Your stepdad was supposed to handle it."
"He was.
He did everything.
He planned all of it.
He just — he stopped.
Tonight.
Because I told him my dad was walking me down the aisle."
Daniel's jaw shifted.
"Your biological father."
"Yes."
"The one who hasn't been here."
I didn't answer.
He already knew.
He'd heard enough over three years of dating to know exactly who Raymond was.
A man who called on birthdays sometimes.
A man who showed up occasionally and left quietly.
A man I had spent my whole life hoping would one day act like a father.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
"I'll call my parents."
"Daniel—"
"It's our wedding.
My parents have money.
I'll ask them."
He stepped into the hallway.
I heard him dial.
I heard the phone ring twice before his mother, Carol, picked up.
I didn't move from the kitchen.
I could hear his voice, low and careful.
I couldn't make out every word.
But I heard the pause.
And then I heard the shift in his tone.
He came back two minutes later.
"My mom wants to talk to you."
I took the phone.
"Lena." Carol's voice was measured.
"Is this true?
The venue hasn't been paid?"
"Yes."
"And your stepfather was responsible for this?"
"He was paying for everything.
He just—"
"He just what?"
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"He found out that my biological father is walking me down the aisle.
And he pulled out."
Carol went quiet for a moment.
"Is that what you want?
For Raymond to walk you?"
"He's my father."
"Is he?"
The question sat there between us.
Not cruel.
Not warm.
Just a question that had more weight than she probably intended.
"I'll talk to Richard," Carol said finally.
"We may be able to wire something tonight.
But Lena, I need to know — is there anything else we don't know about?
Any other bills that haven't been settled?"
My stomach dropped.
Because the truth was, I didn't know.
I had trusted my stepdad, Frank, with everything.
The caterer.
The florist.
The photographer.
The dress alterations.
I hadn't checked a single invoice because Frank was the most organized, most reliable person I had ever known.
He had handled every detail for eight months without a single complaint.
Until last night.
"I don't know," I said honestly.
Carol's silence on the other end was careful.
"Then you need to find out," she said.
"Tonight."
She hung up.
Daniel was watching me.
"She's going to talk to your dad," I said.
"I heard." He sat down at the table.
He looked at the bill Frank had left.
He didn't touch it.
"Why didn't you tell me you chose Raymond before telling Frank?"
I looked at him.
"It came up tonight.
I told Frank this evening."
"You decided before tonight."
I didn't answer right away.
"Yes," I admitted.
"I decided a few weeks ago."
Daniel's hands were flat on the table.
"And you didn't tell me either."
The room went very still.
That was the moment I understood something had cracked — not just with Frank, not just with the venue — but here, in this kitchen, between me and the man I was supposed to marry in less than sixteen hours.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
A text from Frank.
*Check the folder on the kitchen shelf.
May you like
The blue one.
Everything is in there.*
