Part 2: At my wedding, my younger sister interrupted our first dance with a pink-smoke gender reveal. Then she announced Mom had given her our 12-day honeymoon in Greece—and expected me to smile while the guests cheered.

"Tyler, baby, please!" Khloe pleaded, reaching for his arm. "It’s not a crime! It’s just family money! Maya has plenty of it! She didn't even notice the charge until yesterday!"

"It *is* a crime," Tyler’s mother announced, standing beside her husband. Her tone was sharp as broken glass. She adjusted her designer jacket, looking at Khloe with unvarnished contempt. "Using someone else's credit card without authorization is grand larceny, Khloe. And to stand on this dance floor and boast about it? To drag our family name into your cheap, deceitful circus?"

"Mrs. Vance, please!" Mom piped up, rushing over to Table Four with her hands clasped in a desperate prayer pose. "It’s a misunderstanding! Maya is exaggerating. Sisters bicker all the time. I was going to pay Maya back next month! We are family—we share everything!"

"Pay me back with what, Mom?" I asked, my voice ringing through the speakers. "You haven't held a steady job in four years. The money you live on comes from the monthly allowance *I* send you. The dress you’re wearing right now? I paid for it. The rent on your townhouse? I paid it on the first of the month. So tell everyone here: exactly how were you planning to pay back twelve thousand dollars?"

Mom froze. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. She looked around the room, desperately searching for a sympathetic face, but she found none. Her church friends were staring down at their plates in mortification. Daniel’s relatives looked furious. The venue staff was already whispering by the kitchen doors, taking notes on the pink smoke damage.

"You are a monster," Khloe spat at me, her eyes wild with venom. "You're humiliating our own mother on your wedding day! You think you're so superior just because you got into corporate finance! You're nothing but a selfish, greedy bitch!"

"That's enough," Daniel said, stepping forward. His voice echoed with finality. "DJ, turn the house lights up."

The lights blazed to full brightness, ruthlessly exposing the disaster Khloe had created. The delicate chiffon drapes hanging from the ceiling were stained with pink powder. The five-tier white wedding cake had a layer of toxic pink dust settled over the buttercream frosting. Several elderly guests were still coughing into their napkins.

The coordinator, an experienced woman named Sarah, hurried across the room followed by two burly security guards in dark suits. Sarah looked livid.

"Mrs. Vance, ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated," Sarah said into her headset before turning to my mother and Khloe. "Ma'am, you deployed pyrotechnic and pressurized chemical smoke indoors without a permit. You have violated venue safety codes, ruined the ballroom drapery, and contaminated the catering."

Khloe scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "Oh, please. It's just non-toxic cornstarch! It washes right out!"

"It doesn't wash out of silk drapes imported from Italy," Sarah replied coldly. "And it certainly doesn't wash out of the fresh food. The cleanup and damage fee will be added to the final billing."

"Send the bill to her!" Mom snapped instantly, pointing an aggressive finger at me. "She's the bride! She signed the contract!"

I looked at Sarah and smiled faintly. "Sarah, you have my card on file for the contracted wedding services. But any intentional vandalism or unapproved stunts fall under the indemnification clause on page four. Take their names."