I understood the threat buried in Julia's words. The Vances were a prominent family. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them, my mother would be thrown out of Vance Hospital.
"Mom!"
Clay cut Julia off, his tone measured but firm. "Lydia is my wife. Her mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."
He turned to me, his voice softening into something close to a plea. "Sweetheart, if nothing else, at least for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we not make a scene today? Please?"
I dug my nails into my palms and let my expression crumple into something wounded and fragile.
"Clay, do you really not know that makeup artist? Because she whispered to me just now that you told her to make me look ugly on purpose, to get back at me for something. That's why I got upset."
The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted. Sympathy replaced their irritation.
A muscle twitched at the corner of Clay's mouth. Then he smoothed it over with a reassuring smile. "She was talking nonsense. Just jealous that you married well."