So the next morning, I drove to the wedding venue by myself.
The coordinator, Claire Benson, met me in her office with red eyes and shaking hands. After I stepped inside, she locked the door.
“I didn’t know whether to call the police first,” she said.
My stomach clenched. “Claire, what is this?”
She opened her laptop. “After the reception, I was cleaning up near the bridal suite. My phone was still recording voice notes for vendor timing because we had a dispute about the schedule. I accidentally recorded your children talking.”
“My children?”
She nodded. “Ethan and your daughter, Marissa. Vanessa was there too.”
I nearly laughed because my nerves had nowhere else to go. “They probably said something stupid. Weddings are stressful.”
Claire did not smile.
She pressed play.
At first, all I heard was muffled music. Then my daughter’s voice came through clearly.
“Dad looked so pathetic during the father-dance speech. He really thinks Ethan loves him.”
Ethan laughed.
My heart seemed to stop.
Vanessa said, “Just keep him emotional until he signs the lake house transfer. After that, we can stop pretending.”
Marissa replied, “He’ll sign. He’s lonely. Mention Mom and he’ll do anything.”
Then Ethan said the words that made the room tilt around me
