My father looked stunned. My mother’s eyes flashed panic.

“You can’t take it back,” Brianna hissed.

“I can,” I said. “An offer refused isn’t a gift given.”

Grant tried diplomacy. “Maybe we should talk privately—”

“After the speeches,” I replied evenly. “After Brianna enjoys the celebration she planned.”

The silence this time felt different. Not shock—approval.

Someone whispered, “Good for her.”

Brianna’s face flushed. “You’re humiliating me.”

“You handled that part yourself,” I said gently.

My mother accused me of being vindictive.

“No,” I answered. “I’m being clear. I don’t give six-figure gifts to someone who mocks me for sport.”