“Michael, I’m not taking away your wedding. I’m refusing to keep financing the rest of an evening after being publicly humiliated.”
Cassandra stepped closer.
“You’re punishing us because you can’t take a joke!”
I looked at the frosting on her fingers.
“Would you think it was funny if I did the same thing to your mother?”
She hesitated.
Then she snapped, “That’s different.”
“Why?”
She had no answer.
Adrian turned toward the wedding planner.
“Maya, please coordinate with the service team. The guests should be allowed to finish their meal and enjoy the remaining contracted reception time.”
Maya nodded.
Then Adrian looked at me.
“Mrs. Porter, would you like assistance cleaning up?”
I swallowed.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Michael reached toward me.
“Mom, wait.”
I stepped back.
He stopped.
“Please don’t make this worse.”
I looked at my son.
**“I didn’t make this happen, Michael. I just stopped pretending it was acceptable.”**
Then I handed the microphone to Maya.
And walked out of the ballroom.
***
Adrian escorted me to a private sitting room on the hotel’s second floor.
A young employee brought warm towels, bottled water, and a small bag containing toiletries.
I thanked her.
She looked at the frosting still clinging to my hair.
