When my parents refused to pay for my university education, they said it was to teach me independence. Ironically, my sister never received that lesson. She had absolutely everything covered.

The venue was stunning with its manicured lawns and stone arches, but the atmosphere soured the second my mother saw me. She looked at me with pure irritation, treating my presence like a stain on her perfect event.

“I asked what this leftover piece is doing at such a high-class event,” she repeated with a sneer.

Austin Miller, the groom, stepped down from the altar and looked at my mother with a voice that sounded like it was about to break. “Shut your mouth right now, Lydia,” he commanded, causing the entire garden to fall into a haunting silence.

The string quartet stopped playing and the sound of a glass shattering against the pavement echoed through the trees. My mother froze in disbelief because no one in her social circle had ever dared to speak to her with such raw contempt.

Chloe stood there in her designer silk gown and clutched her bouquet so hard her knuckles turned white. I looked at Austin and realized I knew that face, specifically the way he set his jaw and the small scar near his temple.