Baby photos of Paige. Gap-toothed smile. Ballet recital. Prom. Paige and Harold fishing on a lake. Paige blowing out birthday candles. The Lindons on vacation. Vivian in a sun hat. Harold with his arm around Paige, the ocean behind them.
I’m not in a single photo.
The room coos. Eleanor Whitmore smiles politely. Richard pats his son’s shoulder.
Then come the couple photos. Paige and Garrett at a vineyard. At a football game. At Christmas dinner with the Whitmores.
Each one earns a round of soft applause.
The music shifts. Playful. A drum-roll sound effect.
The screen reads: And now let’s meet the rest of the family.
Paige grins from the head table. She catches my eye across the room and wiggles her fingers in a little wave.
Vivian leans back in her chair with the satisfied look of someone who’s been waiting for the main course.
My stomach drops, not from fear, from certainty, because I know what comes next.
Under the table, my phone is already in my hand. The message to Marcus is typed and ready. One word: begin.
My thumb hovers over the send button.