I closed my eyes.

“And my family?”

“Your parents and sister are refusing to leave.”

Of course they were.

“Greg?”

There was a pause.

“He asked to speak with you privately.”

“No.”

“He says it concerns the wedding payment.”

That got my attention.

“What about it?”

“He claims he didn’t know you paid for everything.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“I thought you should know.”

“Put him on.”

A few seconds passed.

Then Greg’s voice came through.

“Elena?”

“What do you want?”

“I didn’t know.”

“About what?”

“The wedding.”

I leaned back.

“What are you talking about?”

“I knew Sarah said someone had covered part of it. She told me your parents had family money.”

I said nothing.

Greg continued quickly.

“She told your parents my family paid. She told my family your family paid. She told me there was a trust from your grandmother.”

I almost admired the simplicity of it.

Sarah had told everyone a different version.

And because each version appealed to what they wanted to believe, nobody had compared notes.

“Why would she do that?”

“I think she wanted everyone to believe she could afford this.”

“You’re her husband. Didn’t you ask?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“She said it was handled.”

I looked through the hospital window.

“And that was enough for you?”

Silence.

That silence told me plenty.

Greg had liked the fantasy too.

Maybe he hadn’t created it, but he had enjoyed living inside it.

“Did you see what Sarah did to Mia?”

“Yes.”

“Did you try to stop her?”

“No.”

“Did you help my daughter afterward?”

Another silence.

“No.”

“Then I don’t care what you knew about the invoice.”

“Elena—”

“You stood there.”

“I froze.”

“So did Mia.”

He had nothing to say to that.

I ended the call.

The doctor came in twenty minutes later.

I stood immediately.

“How is she?”

“She’s awake and stable.”

My knees nearly gave out.

The doctor explained that Mia had suffered a concussion, extensive bruising, and a fracture in her wrist from the fall.

She would need observation.

But there was no catastrophic head injury.

No spinal injury.

No internal bleeding.

I sat down and covered my face.

For the first time since the deck, I cried.

Not elegantly.

Not quietly.

I cried like someone who had been holding a building upright and had finally been told she could let go.

The doctor waited.

Then he said, “She’s asking for you.”

I wiped my face.

“I’m coming.”

Mia was awake when I entered.

Her wrist had been stabilized.

There was a small bandage near her forehead.

She looked tiny in the hospital bed.

“Mommy.”

I went straight to her.

“I’m here.”

“Did Aunt Sarah get mad about the dress?”

I stopped.

Of all the things she could have asked, that was what she was worried about.

“No.”

Mia watched my face.

“She did.”

“That’s not your problem.”

“I didn’t mean to step on it.”

“I know.”

“I said sorry.”

“I know.”

“She pushed me.”

My throat tightened.

“Yes.”

“Was I bad?”

“No.”

“Grandma said I ruined everything.”

I pulled my chair closer.

“Mia, look at me.”

She did.

“You did not ruin anything.”

“But the wedding—”

“A wedding is a party.”

She blinked.

“It’s a really expensive party.”

That almost made her smile.

I continued.

“You are my daughter. There is no party, dress, island, amount of money, or person on this planet more important to me than you.”

“Even two million dollars?”

I froze.

“How do you know about that?”

“Grandpa kept saying it.”

Despite everything, I laughed softly.

“Yes. Even two million dollars.”

She thought about that.

Then she whispered, “That’s a lot.”

“It is.”

“Are you rich?”

I stared at her.

This was not how I imagined that conversation happening.

“A little.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“How little?”

“Enough.”

“Do we have a private island?”

I sighed.

“Yes.”

Her eyes widened.

“Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were seven when I bought it.”

“I’m eight now.”

“Excellent point.”

She smiled.

Then the smile disappeared.

“Is Aunt Sarah coming here?”

“No.”

“Grandma?”

“No.”

“Grandpa?”

“No.”

Her shoulders relaxed.

That reaction told me everything.

I reached for her hand.

“You don’t have to see anyone you’re afraid of.”

She squeezed my fingers.

“Can we go home?”

“As soon as the doctor says yes.”

“Our real home?”

I smiled.

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes.

“Good.”

The next morning, I had thirty-one missed calls.

My mother had apparently borrowed other people’s phones after I blocked hers.

There were messages from Sarah.

Messages from my father.

Messages from distant relatives who had somehow already heard a version in which I had “destroyed Sarah’s wedding over an accident.”

Then I found a voicemail from my mother.

I listened to the first twenty seconds.

“Elena, your behavior yesterday was unforgivable. Your sister has been humiliated in front of hundreds of people. You need to fix this immediately. Whatever happened with Mia can be dealt with privately—”

I deleted it.

The next voicemail was from my father.

“Elena, call me before you do anything stupid with the police. Families handle things internally.”

Delete.

Then Sarah.

“You owe me a wedding.”

Delete.

I stared at the phone after that one.

Not “How is Mia?”

Not “I’m sorry.”

Not even a lie pretending she hadn’t meant to push her.

You owe me a wedding.

I blocked every new number.

Then Marcus called.

This time I answered immediately.

“There’s something you need to see,” he said.

“What?”

“The financial records.”

“What financial records?”

“Your sister attempted to charge additional expenses to the event account last night.”

I sat upright.

“How much?”

“Approximately three hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”

“For what?”

“Jewelry, additional accommodations, a yacht extension, and several vendor balances.”

I actually laughed.

Mia was in a hospital bed, the wedding had been terminated, and Sarah was still shopping.

“Decline everything.”

“Already done.”

“Good.”

“There’s more.”

Of course there was.

“Go ahead.”

“Your father told security he was a co-owner of the island.”

I closed my eyes.

“He what?”

“He said you had transferred partial ownership to the family.”

“I did not.”

“We know.”

“What else?”

“Your mother demanded access to the primary villa because she said she was the mother of the owner.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“What did security do?”

“Escorted her to the departure lounge.”

“Thank you.”

“Your sister is still refusing transportation.”

“Then give her the same choice we give any trespassing guest after termination of access.”

Marcus understood.

“Understood.”

I hung up.

Ten minutes later, my attorney called.

Not Rachel this time.

My corporate attorney, Daniel Cho.

He had already received the preliminary incident report.

“Elena,” he said, “before we discuss anything else, how is Mia?”

That question alone separated him from my family.

“Stable.”

“Good.”

Then his tone changed.

“I need you to do absolutely nothing with the recordings.”

“I won’t.”

“No social media. No family group chats. No sending clips to relatives.”

“Daniel, I’m not sixteen.”

“You’d be surprised what billionaires do when they’re angry.”

I sighed.

“I’m not posting anything.”