Vivian carefully wiped under her eye to protect her makeup. “Fine. You made your point. Give Marisol the money, and you can be in one photo. A small one.”

The hallway went silent again.

I looked at my sister, and for the first time in my life, I felt nothing but clarity.

“You still think this is a negotiation.”

Then Marisol appeared at the end of the hall, holding a tablet, two security staff behind her.

Vivian’s perfect wedding day began to fracture.

The venue office smelled of roses, printer ink, and panic.

Vivian sat across from me, still in her bridal robe, fists clenched in her lap. Daniel paced behind her, muttering into his phone. My parents stood near the door like reluctant witnesses to a trial.

Marisol set the contract on the desk.

“Final payment must be completed before ceremony services continue,” she said. “As the signed client, Claire may cancel or proceed. If canceled, the venue retains deposits under clause eleven.”

Vivian slammed her hand on the desk. “It’s my wedding!”

Marisol didn’t blink. “It is Claire’s contract.”

Daniel leaned forward. “We’ll pay after the ceremony.”

“No,” Marisol said.

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