“Then tell him to marry me!”
The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.
Eleanor looked toward Nathan.
For one aching moment, he feared she might try to save the wedding. She had spent her life repairing things other people broke. He knew she might sacrifice her dignity rather than become the reason for his pain.
But Eleanor simply said, “Nathan must make his own decision.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Of course. Now you pretend you haven’t manipulated him.”
Nathan moved between them.
“Enough.”
His voice was firm enough that Vanessa took a step backward.
“You don’t speak to her like that again.”
Before Vanessa could answer, a man in a gray suit emerged from the guests.
Edward Whitmore, Vanessa’s father, had been watching from beside the aisle.
His expression was almost unrecognizable.
“Vanessa,” he said, “come with me.”
“Dad, please. Tell Nathan he’s being ridiculous.”
Edward glanced at Eleanor, then at the abandoned roses.
“Did you deliberately blame that woman for something you did?”
Vanessa looked irritated.
“Dad, this is between Nathan and me.”
“Answer the question.”
Her silence was enough.
Edward lowered his head.
For years, he had defended his daughter’s temper as ambition, her insults as honesty, and her selfishness as confidence.
He had always found explanations.
Now those explanations collapsed beneath the simple evidence of a recording.
“I raised you better than this,” he whispered.
Vanessa’s eyes filled with angry tears.
“Oh, now everyone’s against me.”
Her mother, Patricia, approached from behind Edward.
