The wedding looked like something from a magazine.

White orchids.

Crystal chandeliers.

Champagne.

Politicians.

Judges.

Business executives.

People who would have stepped around me on a sidewalk without noticing.

And behind them, scattered invisibly among waiters and guests, were Ethan’s people.

Ethan himself wore a black suit.

No tie.

No smile.

When we entered together, conversations stopped.

That was when I realized the stories hadn’t exaggerated everything.

Chicago really was afraid of Ethan Callahan.

Grant appeared near the ballroom doors.

His expression barely changed.

But his eyes did.

“Rachel.”

Then he looked at Ethan.

“Mr. Callahan.”

“Nolan.”

Grant went pale.

Only slightly.

Enough.

“My name is Grant.”

Ethan smiled for the first time.

It was not a pleasant smile.

“Of course.”

Then Isabel appeared.

I almost cried.

She wore a beautiful white gown.

Her dark hair was pinned high.

Diamonds glittered at her throat.

But beneath the makeup, my sister looked exhausted.

Her eyes found mine.

Then Ethan’s.

Then Grant’s.

She walked toward me.

“Rachel.”

I hugged her.

For half a second she stayed rigid.

Then her arms closed around me so tightly I could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against my hair.

“For what?”

She pulled back.

Her wedding bouquet pressed between us.

Something slipped into my hand.

A folded piece of paper.

“Bathroom,” she said loudly. “I need to fix my makeup.”

Grant immediately stepped closer.

A little too close.

“I’ll have someone help.”

Isabel smiled.

“No need.”

His eyes moved between us.

Then he kissed her cheek.

“Don’t take long.”

I wanted to punch him.

Instead we walked away.

Inside the bathroom, Isabel locked the door.

I unfolded the paper.

NURSERY. 4:15. ALONE.

I looked at her.

She shook her head sharply.

Cameras.

Of course.

So I smiled.

“You look beautiful.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“So do you.”

At 4:13, I slipped through a service corridor and found the hotel nursery.

Isabel arrived one minute later.

She locked the door.

Then she collapsed against me.

“He knows about Sophie.”

I held her.

“What happened?”

“I found documents three weeks ago. Trust paperwork. Your name. My name. Mom’s real name.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried.”

She cried harder.

“Grant took my phone. He said if I cancelled the wedding, people would come for you in Los Angeles.”

My stomach turned.

“The invitation?”

“I mailed it months ago because I wanted us to fix things. He found out after Sophie was born. When he learned you were coming, he changed everything.”

She grabbed my hands.

“Rachel, he needs us both to sign something tonight.”

“I know.”

Her face changed.

“You know?”

“Ethan told me.”

Isabel stared.

“Callahan?”

“He’s Mom’s brother.”

“What?”

“I know. We can have matching nervous breakdowns later.”

Despite everything, Isabel made a broken sound that was almost a laugh.

Then someone knocked.

Three slow knocks.

Isabel froze.

The handle turned.

Grant entered.

Behind him were two men.

One was from the airport photograph.

Grant closed the door.

“So much for alone.”

I moved in front of Isabel.

He sighed.

“I hoped we could avoid theatrics.”

“Your entire wedding is theatrics.”

His smile vanished.

“Where’s the baby?”

“Go to hell.”

His gaze hardened.

“Rachel, you misunderstand your position.”

“No,” a voice said behind him.