My mother said I should stay in the kitchen during the wedding photos—only until the “important guests” were gone. I didn’t mention that for the past year I had been

My mother’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Clare should finish getting ready,” I said softly, because the longer this dragged out, the more it would become about me, and today was still her day. I looked at my sister. “You look beautiful, even in a robe.”

Clare let out a shaky laugh that turned into tears. “Soph,” she whispered, like she didn’t know how to reach me anymore.

Daniel squeezed my hand. “My team needs the seating chart confirmed,” he said lightly. “I’ll be sitting with Sophia, of course.”

My mother nodded so quickly it looked like surrender. “Yes. Family section.”

“Front row,” Daniel said.

“Yes,” she repeated. “Front row.”

“And photos,” Daniel added, like it was an afterthought. “My mom loves pictures from friends’ weddings. She’ll want some of Sophia with her sister.”

There was no way out. Not now. Not with agents in the hallway and the weight of national attention suddenly pressing on a family that had been obsessed with local approval.