…handed me his unlocked phone. The screen was open to a text thread between him and my dad.
I looked down, my hands trembling as I read the messages dated the morning of my mom’s crash.
Dad: She found the bank statements. She’s packing a bag and heading to the lawyer.
Corrine: Did you do what we talked about? The mechanic said it wouldn’t leave a trace if you loosened the brake line enough.
Dad: It’s done. Just act natural when they call. I love you.
My blood ran completely cold. The backyard acoustic music suddenly sounded like a funeral dirge.
Leo looked at me, his eyes red and furious. “They didn’t just betray her,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “They murdered her. My mom wanted her life, and your dad wanted the insurance money.”
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. A strange, icy calm washed over me. I gripped the phone and walked out onto the patio.
The string lights were glowing. Corrine was standing at the altar in a silk white gown, her heels sinking into the very flowerbeds my mother had cultivated with her bare hands. My dad was beaming at her—a relieved, sickeningly happy smile.
The officiant smiled warmly at the crowd. “If anyone here has any reason why these two should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I stepped off the patio and walked straight down the aisle.
“I have a reason,” I said loudly. The guests murmured. My dad’s smile faltered. Corrine gave me a patronizing, pitying look.
“Sweetheart, we talked about this,” my dad warned, stepping forward. “Emotions are high—”
I ignored him, walking right past him to the officiant’s stand. I grabbed the microphone.
“Actually, I have a few reasons,” I said, my voice echoing over the speakers. “And they’re all time-stamped.”
I held the microphone to my mouth and began reading the text messages out loud. Every single one. I read the part about the brake lines. I read the part about the bank statements. I read the part where Corrine said she couldn’t wait to finally take her perfect sister’s place.
The silence in the backyard was deafening. You could hear a pin drop. Guests stared in absolute horror, some physically backing away from the altar like my dad and aunt were contagious.
The color completely drained from my dad’s face. He lunged for me, but Leo stepped out of the crowd and shoved him hard into the flower trellis. It collapsed, sending my mother’s roses crashing to the ground.
Corrine dropped her bouquet, covering her face and beginning to sob—but this time, the tears were real.
“You couldn’t even wait for the dirt to settle on her grave before throwing your victory party,” I spat, looking down at them.
In the distance, the faint, rising wail of police sirens pierced the air. Leo had already made the call before pulling me aside.
I dropped the microphone onto the grass, letting out a sharp burst of static, and looked at the crowd of horrified guests.
“The reception is canceled,” I announced. “But I hear prison food is served promptly at six.”
