Chapter 4 - The Reception and the Toast
The reception in the main ballroom was everything a celebration should have been: loud, joyful, filled with incredible food, and completely devoid of artificial pleasantries.
Because my mother and stepfather slunk out immediately after the ceremony—claiming a “sudden migraine” and a desire to distance themselves from the police report—the atmosphere at the head table was light, breezy, and entirely drama-free.
Midway through dinner, June stood up with her glass of champagne, tapping her butter knife against the rim. The room quieted down as she beamed at Caleb and me.
“For those of you who don’t know me, I’m June, Lauren’s best friend and maid of honor,” she began, her voice carrying clearly across the room. “And let me tell you, today has been a masterclass in resilience.”
Laughter rippled through the guests who had already caught wind of the rumors about the bridal suite incident.
“Lauren is the hardest-working, most genuine person I have ever met,” June continued, her eyes glistening with happy tears. “She spends her life taking care of others at the clinic, building a home, and loving the people around her with her whole heart. And Caleb? Caleb is the kind of man who doesn't just marry a woman; he guards her peace. Today proved that.”
She raised her glass. “To Lauren and Caleb. May your life together be long, beautiful, and entirely free of black dye.”
“Hear, hear!” the crowd cheered.
After dinner, the band kicked into high gear. Caleb twirled me across the polished wooden dance floor, our laughter blending with the music. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like I had to manage everyone else’s feelings, absorb everyone else’s chaos, or apologize for existing.
Around 9:30 PM, my phone buzzed in my small satin evening bag.
I pulled it out, expecting a text from an extended relative asking what happened. Instead, it was an unfamiliar number.
I tapped to open it. It was a message from a burner app—the same one Mallory had been using.
“You think you won,” the text read. “Mom is paying my bail, and I’m taking you to court for our grandmother’s pearl necklace. You haven’t seen the last of me.”
I stared at the screen for a moment, a cold flash of annoyance brushing my skin. Then, I forwarded the screenshot directly to Caleb’s phone, along with a laughing emoji.
Caleb checked his phone, looked down at me, and grinned.
May you like
“Want me to handle it?” he asked, his arms wrapped securely around my waist.
“No,” I smiled, locking my phone and tossing it back into my bag. “Let her try. I have a husband to dance with.”
