My fiancé, Daniel Brooks, FaceTimed me from his parents’ house to ask about the color of the table runners for our reception. Our wedding was scheduled for the very next day. My living room was covered with open boxes—candles, place cards, a guest book, and little gift bags my children had helped decorate.
“Rose or ivory?” Daniel asked while walking through the hallway.
“Rose,” I answered without thinking. “It’ll match the flowers.”
“Perfect,” he said. “Wait a second—my mom’s calling.”
The screen went dark, but the call stayed connected. I assumed he’d come back in a moment, so I leaned my phone against a vase and kept folding napkins.
Then I heard voices.
Not faint background chatter—clear voices, close to the phone.
Daniel’s mother, Carol, asked, “Did she sign it yet?”
Daniel laughed softly. “Almost. She gets nervous about paperwork, but after the wedding she’ll sign whatever I ask. She wants this marriage too badly.”
My hands went cold. I stared at the blank screen, hoping I misunderstood.
His brother Ryan chuckled. “Especially with her kids. She’s desperate for stability.”