Chapter 2

The next morning, I discovered that Sloane had already changed three parts of my wedding—and Owen knew about every one of them.

She had renamed the groomsmen’s group chat “Operation Save Owen.” I had been in the chat before. Now, when I opened it, all I saw was a gray system message:

You were removed by an administrator.

I held my phone out to Owen as he made coffee. “Was this your idea?”

He glanced at the screen and kept pouring milk into his mug. “The bride doesn’t need to be involved in the bachelor weekend. Sloane’s just trying to help everyone relax.”

“She changed the entrance music too.”

After the party last night, our wedding coordinator, Evelyn, had sent an update.

The piano piece Owen and I had spent two months choosing was gone.

In its place was the rock song he and Sloane’s high school team used to sing after every win.

Owen lifted his coffee without looking at me. “She mentioned it. I thought it sounded fun. The guests will like it.”

“It’s our ceremony.”

“Harper, it’s one song.”

He always knew how to shrink something after it happened. One song. One joke. One little thing.

Each one sounded too small to fight over. But stacked together, they left me staring at a wedding that no longer seemed to need me for half of its decisions.

I opened the updated schedule. Sloane had also added a video before the vows titled The People Who Really Know the Groom.

“What’s in the video?”

“High school photos, team footage, interviews with friends.” Owen paused. “She said she might include something about how I feel about marriage.”

“What about my vows?”

His eyes finally moved from his coffee to my face. “What do you mean?”

“Has she seen them?”

Owen didn’t answer right away.

That was answer enough.

I turned my laptop toward him and laid out my boundaries one by one.

Any change to the ceremony required both our approval. No one else was allowed access to our private vows.

Sloane could support the groom, but she did not get to speak for our marriage.

“I’ll talk to her.” Owen rubbed his forehead. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. Don’t treat everything she does like a personal attack.”

Less than ten minutes later, Sloane posted a voice message in the group chat.

She said brides often got anxious as the wedding approached, so everyone needed to be patient with me.

She hadn’t challenged a single boundary I had set. She had simply turned me into an overwrought bride who needed managing.

Then she sent Owen a revised list of clips for the video and asked whether he approved.

I enlarged the screenshot.

In the bottom corner of the open file window, half a white page was visible.

The sentence at the top was the first line I had added to my vows the night before.

I pushed the screenshot in front of Owen. He admitted Sloane had used his tablet, but still insisted she would never actually share what she had seen.

Then another message arrived from Evelyn—the final wedding-party lineup.

Sloane’s name appeared directly beside Owen’s.

Her duties included holding the rings, accompanying him during the entrance, and taking private photos with him before the ceremony.

My sister Maya had been removed from the in-person wedding party entirely.

Beside her name were only two words:

Remote speech.