Chapter 2

The reassignment form was still in my hand when Miles reached for it.

I took a picture first.

“That’s an internal hotel document,” he said. “You don’t need to turn everything into evidence.”

“Your name is on it.”

“It was just a seating change.”

I turned to the second page.

My ocean-view suite had been crossed out and reassigned to Daphne. The approval line carried the same initials—M.W.—and the same date from eleven weeks earlier.

Our own wedding invitation had carried both surnames. Miles had insisted on it, saying neither of us should disappear into the other’s family.

This had not been decided today.

For more than two months, Miles had watched me approve menus, revise floral arrangements, and pay invoices without ever intending to let me attend the wedding.

“When were you planning to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Three minutes after the final payment cleared?”

Taryn stood and pulled the seating chart behind her.

“My wedding is tomorrow. Can you two please argue about this at home?”

“Do I have somewhere else to stay?” Daphne asked quietly.

She picked up the key card as if she meant to return it.

Vivian stopped her.

“The room is already arranged. We’re not changing everything because Ava is upset.”

Miles looked at me.

“Go back to Manhattan. We’ll talk after the wedding.”

I folded the form and put it in my purse.

“Fine.”

He clearly had not expected me to agree so quickly.

I left the dining room and got into my car. Once the door was closed, I opened the wedding vendor portal.

My name was still listed as the primary client, but Miles had been added months earlier as an authorized contact.

The notification email had been changed to his address.

I remained responsible for the venue, catering, flowers, and band.

But my guest profile was gone.

I opened the activity log.

Eleven weeks earlier, at 9:14 on a Monday night:

Ava Monroe — Removed.

The change had been made through Miles’s account.

One minute later, Daphne was moved to the head table.

At 9:18, she received my ocean-view suite.

At 9:21, she was added to the Whitmore immediate-family photographs.

It had taken them seven minutes to erase me.

Three messages arrived in quick succession.

Taryn sent the final champagne count and told me to confirm it before two.

The next message asked me to pay for an extra hour with the band.

The third concerned steaming Daphne’s dress.

I replied:

I’m no longer handling these arrangements. I will not approve any additional charges.

Taryn called immediately.

“You can’t quit the day before my wedding.”

“You removed me eleven weeks ago.”

“Miles decided the seating. I didn’t know he still hadn’t told you.”

“Your signature is on the change form.”

She paused, then raised her voice.

“I was under a lot of pressure. You promised you would help me finish this wedding.”

“I promised to help with a family wedding I was invited to attend.”

“So now you’re going to ruin it?”

“The vendors under contract will be paid. Beyond that, you won’t receive another dollar from me.”

I ended the call.

A message from Miles appeared seconds later.

Stop punishing Taryn. And don’t drag the vendors into our private business.

Being removed from the wedding was private business.

Paying for it was still my responsibility.

The wedding planner, Lauren, called a moment later.

“Ava, I just saw the account restriction. Are you sure you want to stop all additional spending?”

“Yes. And I need to know something. Why haven’t I received any seating, hotel, or schedule updates for eleven weeks?”

I heard papers moving on her end.

“Because Miles gave us specific instructions.”

“What did he say?”

Lauren read directly from the account note.

“Mr. Whitmore requested that we not send his wife anything that might lead her to believe she was invited to the wedding.”