Dad was in a groom’s room with his brother and two coworkers, looking like a man headed to sentencing instead of marriage.

We didn’t go to either room.

We went straight to the aisle.

Guests turned.

Whispers started.

Grandma carried a black box this time.

Not cedar.

Black lacquer.

Silver latch.

The kind of box that looked less like a gift and more like a verdict.

The wedding planner saw us and went pale.

“Mrs. Eleanor,” she whispered. “I don’t think—”

Grandma said, “Good. Thinking has been in short supply around here.”

We sat in the front row.

On the bride’s side.

That was Grandma’s idea.

“Sarah’s sister,” she said. “Family seat.”

The quartet began.

Dad walked out first.

When he saw us, he nearly stopped.

Valerie appeared at the end of the aisle a minute later.

She looked stunning.

I hated that she looked stunning.

Her dress fit like it had been poured onto her. Her veil trailed behind her. Diamonds flashed at her ears.

She smiled at the guests.

Then she saw Grandma.

Then me.

Her smile sharpened.

She kept walking.

I had to admire that. In another life, Valerie could have ruled countries. Unfortunately, she had chosen a suburban household and emotional terrorism.

She reached Dad.

The officiant began.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today—”

Grandma stood.

Everyone froze.

The officiant blinked.

“Ma’am?”

Grandma stepped into the aisle holding the black box.

“I have a gift for the bride and groom.”

Valerie laughed softly.

“Eleanor, not now.”

“Oh,” Grandma said. “Especially now.”

Dad whispered, “Please don’t.”

I looked at him.

He had said those words to everyone except the woman hurting me.

Grandma handed him the box.

“Open it.”

Dad didn’t move.

Valerie’s eyes flashed.

“For heaven’s sake, Jack. Just open it.”

He did.

His hands shook so badly the latch clicked twice before it released.

Inside was not a ring.

Not a letter.

Not a flash drive.

It was a stack of documents tied with red string.

On top was a court order.

Dad read the first page.

Then he made a sound like air leaving a tire.

Valerie snatched it from him.

Her face went white.

“What is this?”

Adrian stood behind Grandma.

“That is an emergency injunction freezing the wedding funds traced to the Sarah Collins Trust.”

Guests erupted in whispers.

Valerie stared at him.

“You can’t freeze a wedding.”

Adrian said, “No. But the court can freeze stolen funds.”

Dad sank onto the first step of the altar.

Valerie rounded on him.

“You said you handled this.”