Chapter 5
I walked toward Nia.
She stepped backward.
"Marcus?"
I pointed toward her gown.
"Who designed this?"
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
"The dress."
She looked down.
Then back at me.
"My company."
I shook my head.
"That's not what I asked."
Vanessa moved closer.
"Marcus, this is absurd."
I ignored her.
"Nia, who created the original design?"
She swallowed.
"Our design team."
Aunt Renee opened the folder again.
Then placed one of my mother's drawings beside Nia's dress.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
The delicate flowers.
The fitted waist.
The unusual lace pattern extending across the shoulder.
My mother's handwriting filled the corner of the page.
Evelyn Williams.
Spring Collection.
I stared at the drawing.
Then at Nia.
"Did you copy it?"
She began crying.
"Marcus, please."
I felt sick.
"Answer me."
She looked toward Vanessa.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
For almost a year, Nia had talked about creating a wedding gown that represented our love.
She said she wanted something unique.
Something personal.
Something no other bride would wear.
I had paid nearly twenty thousand dollars for the custom design.
Now I was staring at evidence that the dress might have come directly from my mother's work.
And Nia had never told me.
Dad looked devastated.
He gently touched the drawing.
"Your mother would've been happy to see someone wearing this."
I turned toward him.
His eyes filled.
"She loved making brides feel beautiful."
I swallowed.
Then he added quietly, "But she would've wanted the truth told."
Nia covered her face.
"I'm sorry."
I wanted to believe her.
But I couldn't.
Not yet.
I looked toward Daniel.
He was standing near the lounge doors.
He had been my best friend since college.
He looked uncomfortable.
Then he spoke.
"Marcus, there's something else."
I frowned.
"What?"
He glanced toward Nia.
Then toward Vanessa.
"I didn't know whether to tell you."
My stomach tightened.
"Tell me what?"
Daniel took out his phone.
He opened a message.
Then handed it to me.
It was from Nia.
Sent three weeks earlier.
Marcus is too sentimental about his father. Make sure Arthur doesn't bring anything embarrassing to the ceremony.
I stared at the screen.
My chest tightened.
I scrolled.
Another message.
If he insists on giving us some homemade gift, keep it away from the photographers.
I stopped breathing.
I looked at Daniel.
"You knew?"
He looked ashamed.
"I thought she was just worried about appearances."
My hands trembled.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He swallowed.
"I should have."
I looked toward Nia.
Her face had gone pale.
"You planned this?"
She shook her head.
"Marcus, no."
I held up the phone.
"You told Daniel to keep Dad away from the photographers."
She looked down.
I continued.
"You knew he was bringing something."
Her voice broke.
"I didn't know it was your mother's ring."
I stared at her.
"You thought it was something cheap."
She said nothing.
"And you didn't want people seeing it."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
I stepped backward.
For months, Nia had made small comments about Dad.
His jacket.
His car.
The neighborhood where he lived.
She said he should dress better.
She suggested he rent a luxury vehicle for the wedding.
She asked whether I could buy him a designer suit.
I thought she was trying to help him feel comfortable.
Now I understood.
She was embarrassed by him.
My father.
The man who raised me alone.
The man who worked two jobs after Mom died.
The man who paid for my first business license when I had only six hundred dollars in savings.
The man who taught me that a person's worth had nothing to do with their bank account.
I looked toward Dad.
He was sitting quietly beside the broken jewelry box.
I felt ashamed.
Not of him.
Of myself.
Because I had ignored the warning signs.
I had laughed when Nia joked about his clothes.
I had changed the subject when she criticized his home.
I had convinced myself she was only trying to help.
And every time, I had allowed a small piece of disrespect to pass without challenging it.
I stepped toward him.
"Dad."
He looked up.
"I'm sorry."
His expression softened.
"Son, you didn't break the box."
I shook my head.
"That's not what I mean."
My eyes filled.
"I let her make you feel like you weren't good enough."
Dad looked away.
I continued.
"I should have stopped it long before today."
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he reached for my hand.
"Marcus, I raised you to love people."
I nodded.
"But love shouldn't make you blind to cruelty."
I began crying.
He pulled me into his arms.
For several seconds, I held him like I was twelve again.
Like I had just lost Mom.
Like he was the only safe place left in the world.
Then I stood.
I looked at Nia.
She was crying.
Vanessa stood beside her, furious.
I took a breath.
"The wedding is canceled."
The room went silent.
Nia stared at me.
"What?"
I shook my head.
"I cannot marry you today."
She stumbled backward.
"Marcus, please."
I felt my heart breaking.
But I didn't change my mind.
Then Vanessa stepped forward.
"You can't humiliate my daughter in front of everyone."
I looked at her.
"She humiliated my father."
Vanessa's face hardened.
I continued.
"And I won't marry someone who treats him like that."
Nia began sobbing.
I wanted to hold her.
But I couldn't.
Not when I finally understood what had happened.
I turned toward Daniel.
"Please tell the officiant."
He nodded.
"Of course."
Then my father spoke.
"Marcus, before we leave, there's one more document you need to see."
I turned.
He was holding a sealed envelope.
May you like
On the front was my mother's handwriting.
For Marcus, when he is ready to understand what love is worth.
