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 dating a man whose arrival required a presidential security sweep. Then the security team cleared the main hall.

The family holding area was a sitting room where the air felt tight, like everyone had been holding their breath. My sister Serena was there in a white satin robe with puffy eyes, and my parents sat on a loveseat like they’d been placed there for a portrait.

Mrs. Redcliff stepped forward first, perfectly dressed with pearls at her throat. “Miss Miller, I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re trying to pull, but this is unacceptable.”

“I’m not pulling anything,” I said evenly.

“Security teams are turning a family wedding into a circus,” she continued.

My mother rushed toward me and grabbed my hands. “Penelope,” she whispered, “why didn’t you tell us?”

“You didn’t ask,” I whispered back.

Serena made a small sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “You’re dating the president’s son?” she asked, as if testing the words.

“I apologize for the disruption,” a new voice interrupted from the doorway.

Christian stepped in, flanked by two agents, wearing a dark suit that made him look older than thirty. “My team tends to be thorough, but I assure you I’m here simply as Penelope’s boyfriend.”