Just fifteen minutes before the wedding, I discovered the head table had been changed: nine seats for my husband’s family and my parents standing to one side. His mother scoffed, “How pathetic they look.” So I grabbed the microphone… and smashed it in an instant.

“The groom’s blessing? Wyatt agreed to this?” I whispered, feeling the weight of the betrayal settling in my chest.

Before the planner could respond, Brenda appeared in her emerald silk gown with a sharp, artificial smile that felt like a blade. She looked at my parents’ isolated chairs and then turned her gaze toward me with total indifference.

“Don’t be so sensitive, Kaitlyn, your parents will be perfectly comfortable over there since they aren’t exactly used to high-society events anyway,” she said. The blood began to throb in my ears as I stood my ground.

“This is my wedding day, Brenda,” I told her, but she just let out a short, mocking laugh that was loud enough for the catering staff to hear.

“It is my son’s wedding too, and the Miller family needs to be the focal point, whereas your parents… well, they just look pathetic trying to blend in with us,” she added with a shrug. I stopped breathing for a moment as I saw my father standing near the entrance in the suit he had saved up for months to buy.