A ripple of shock moved through the crowd as forks clattered, whispers rose, and my mother made a strangled sound like she had been physically struck.
My father stared down at his hands, refusing to meet my eyes as judgment passed silently from guest to guest.
My name is Megan Whitaker, and in that moment I understood with perfect clarity that my sister had not lost control because she had planned every second of this.
Victoria had always loved an audience, and she had built her life around being admired, respected, and envied by everyone in every room she entered.
She had been perfect since childhood with awards lining the hallway, pageants every summer, leadership roles in school, and a flawless engagement at twenty five to Connor, who came from a wealthy and respected family.
I had always been the other daughter, the emotional one who asked difficult questions and chose a different path by building a career in event marketing instead of following expectations.
Now I was the reckless one, the sister who got pregnant just before her fairy tale wedding, and she was making sure everyone believed that version of the story.