Then came the phone call that changed everything. It was mid-July, and I was watering the plants on my terrace when my phone rang. “Mrs. Rivers, this is Jessica Martinez from Green Valley Estate. I’m calling about your event on September 14th.”
“Yes,” I said, setting down my watering can. “Sophie’s wedding. Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to confirm a change to our records. Your son requested that we update the billing contact information to his name and email address. He said there might be some last-minute changes to the order and it would be easier if the invoices came directly to him. I wanted to make sure that’s accurate before I process it.”
My stomach dropped. “He requested what? When did he make this request?”
“Let me check… It was two weeks ago. July 19th.”
Two weeks ago. They’d been at my apartment that very day, showing me photos of the centerpieces, thanking me for being so generous. “Mrs. Rivers, should I make the change?”
“No,” I said firmly, my voice steadier than I felt. “Please keep all billing information under my name. I’m the one managing the finances for this event.”
“Of course. I’ll make a note in the file. Thank you for clarifying.”
After I hung up, I sat very still on my terrace, the July sun beating down, the sounds of the city rising from sixteen floors below. They were trying to erase me from my own event. I opened my laptop and checked my email, finding messages from vendors I didn’t recognize—the photographer asking about timeline adjustments, the florist confirming changes to the bouquet design, the caterer asking about dietary restrictions. All of them addressed to Avery and Taylor. None to me.
I pulled out the folder labeled “Sophie’s Wedding” and reviewed every contract I’d signed, every receipt, every payment confirmation. Every single one bore my name, my signature, my account numbers. That’s when I called Martin Hayes, my late husband’s best friend and our longtime attorney.
“Amelia,” he answered warmly. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How are you?”
I explained everything—the wedding, the contracts, the vendors being redirected. Martin listened without interrupting, one of his best qualities. When I finished, he asked quietly, “Amelia, I need you to really think about this answer. Do you trust your son?”