Thatcher’s jaw tightened. “I had expenses. Transitions. It wasn’t stable at the time.”
My mom stood up then. “Your daughters also need stability. They’re infants.”
Silence dropped like a curtain.
Sloane stared at him. “Did you lie to your ex-wife?”
He hesitated.
“I didn’t lie,” he said weakly. “I just didn’t disclose everything.”
The bride’s father let out a disbelieving laugh. “That’s called misrepresentation.”
Murmurs turned into sharp accusations.
“You said she was exaggerating!”
“You told us she was bitter.”
“I defended you!”
Sloane stepped backward as if Thatcher had physically shoved her. “You told me she was draining you. You said she was trying to ruin your life.”
Thatcher looked at me then.
As if this was all my fault.
“You planned this,” he accused.
“Yes,” I said, my voice unshakable.
“You embarrassed me in front of everyone,” he said.
“No,” I replied calmly. “You did that yourself when you lied to me.”
Sloane’s mother grabbed Thatcher’s arm. “Is this true? Did you claim hardship while paying for this wedding? Answer me!”
Thatcher rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t think it would matter. The court doesn’t track every detail.”
“That’s not the point!” Sloane cried. “You said you were sacrificing to build our future!”
He reached for her hand. She pulled it away.
The room wasn’t on his side anymore.
He’d been the charming guy who “fell out of love.”
Now he was the man who shortchanged his babies to fund a honeymoon.
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