Chapter 4 - What Happened Before My Wedding
Brooke came back the next morning.
Alone.
She arrived at 8:43 carrying coffee and looking like she hadn't slept.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
An oversized sweatshirt instead of the polished clothes she usually wore around me.
For a moment, she looked less like the sister who had spent years effortlessly taking up all the oxygen in our family and more like the girl who used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms.
“I didn't know if you'd let me in,” she said.
I stepped aside.
“You brought coffee.”
She held up the tray.
“Bribery.”
“Effective bribery.”
She almost smiled.
Julian was upstairs on a video call, so Brooke and I sat at the kitchen island.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “My birthday party wasn't my idea.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“The date.”
She wrapped both hands around her coffee cup.
“I wanted the party the Saturday before.”
I waited.
“Mom told me March fifteenth would be better.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“She said family would already be keeping that weekend open.”
I stared at her.
Brooke's eyes filled.
“I didn't understand what she meant.”
“Did you know my wedding was that day?”
“Yes.”
At least she didn't lie.
She looked down.
“But Mom told me you and Julian were probably moving it.”
“When?”
“A couple weeks after you sent invitations.”
I said nothing.
“She said the courthouse had scheduling issues.”
I laughed once.
Brooke winced.
“I know.”
“No, it's fine. Apparently the county government joined the conspiracy.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“She said you hadn't announced the change yet because you were embarrassed.”
I felt cold all over again.
Embarrassed.
Budget problems.
Planning issues.
My mother had created an entire fictional wedding around me.
Brooke continued.
“Then Austin got involved.”
“How?”
“He told me not to worry about it.”
I leaned forward.
“What exactly did he say?”
Brooke stared into her coffee.
“He said, ‘Gwen won't care once she's married.’”
My pulse quickened.
“Why would he say that?”
“I didn't know then.”
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out her phone.
“I went through our old messages last night.”
She turned the screen toward me.
The conversation was dated February 18.
Austin:
You should keep the 15th. Seriously. Gwen's thing is nothing.
Brooke:
Mom says she might move it anyway.
Austin:
She will. Trust me.
Brooke:
Why do you care?
Austin:
Because she needs to stop acting like everything has to be about her.
I stared at the message.
It was almost funny.
Everything about her.
I thought about every birthday dinner that had changed restaurants for Brooke.
Every holiday built around Austin's schedule.
Every achievement of mine that required flexibility.
Brooke scrolled.
Then showed me another exchange from early March.
Austin:
If Gwen gets mad, let her. She'll be fine soon.
Brooke:
Mom says Julian is doing really well.
Austin:
Exactly.
I looked up.
“Exactly?”
Brooke nodded.
“I didn't notice it then.”
“But now?”
“Now I think he already knew about the IPO.”
Julian had told me about the planned public offering months before, but we'd kept it private because the timing could still change.
He had discussed it with only a handful of people.
I had never told my family.
“How would Austin know?”
Brooke shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then she hesitated.
“But there's something else.”
Of course there was.
She unlocked another message thread.
This one was between Brooke and Mom.
March 11.
Four days before my wedding.
Brooke:
Should I invite Gwen again?
Mom:
No. Let her have her moment with Julian. We don't need drama.
Brooke:
But if she really gets married that day won't it look bad?
Mom:
She won't make a scene. Gwen never does.
I stared at that sentence.
Gwen never does.
There it was.
The entire architecture of my family in four words.
They hadn't thought I wouldn't be hurt.
They had counted on me being hurt quietly.
Brooke whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I looked at her.
She took a breath.
“I know saying that doesn't fix it.”
“No.”
“I should have called you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have asked.”
“Yes.”
She nodded after every answer.
No defensiveness.
No counterargument.
That mattered.
“I spent years thinking you judged me,” she said.
“I did sometimes.”
She smiled weakly.
“Fair.”
Then her face turned serious.
“But I think Mom liked us not being close.”
That hit me harder than I expected.
“Why?”
“Because if you and I compared stories…”
She let the sentence die.
We both knew.
If Brooke and I compared stories, Mom couldn't control the narrative between us.
Brooke suddenly laughed through tears.
“You know she told me you refused to come dress shopping for my wedding because you were jealous?”
I blinked.
“You never invited me.”
“I know that now.”
She wiped her cheek.
I stared at her.
“Mom told me you didn't want me at your baby shower.”
Brooke looked shocked.
“I wasn't pregnant.”
“I know.”
For a second, we both stared at each other.
Then something absurd happened.
We laughed.
Not because any of it was funny.
Because sometimes a lie becomes so elaborate that laughter is the only human response.
Our mother had spent years translating us to each other.
And apparently she had been a terrible translator.
Julian came downstairs around ten.
He stopped when he saw Brooke.
She looked nervous.
“Hi.”
“Morning.”
He poured coffee.
Brooke cleared her throat.
“I owe you an apology too.”
Julian glanced at me.
Then back at her.
“For what?”
“For the wedding.”
He leaned against the counter.
Brooke said, “I believed things I should have checked myself.”
Julian nodded once.
“That sounds accurate.”
She almost smiled.
“You don't make forgiveness easy.”
“I think Gwen has made things too easy for your family for years.”
Brooke looked at me.
“I think you're right.”
Then she turned serious.
“Do you know who knew about the IPO?”
Julian's expression changed slightly.
“A few people.”
“Could Austin have found out?”
“Not legally from us.”
The phrasing caught my attention.
“What does that mean?”
Julian set down his cup.
“Some company employees knew internally.”
“Anyone Austin knows?”
He thought.
Then his eyes sharpened.
“Maybe.”
He went upstairs and came back with his laptop.
We spent the next twenty minutes checking names.
Then Julian stopped.
“Daniel Porter.”
I recognized the name vaguely.
One of Lantern Grid's operations managers.
Brooke recognized it immediately.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Austin played golf with a Daniel last summer.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Julian searched his internal contact list.
Daniel Porter lived twenty minutes from Austin.
That was enough to make Julian's face serious.
“He wouldn't have had exact valuation information,” he said. “But he would have known an IPO was likely.”
Brooke whispered, “So Austin knew.”
I thought about the forum post.
My sister just married some tech guy. Once the money hits, I'm golden.
Not random optimism.
Planning.
He had looked at my wedding and seen a future bailout.
That afternoon, I called Dad.
He answered on the first ring.
“I found more.”
He sighed.
“Of course you did.”
I told him about the messages.
About Austin.
About the possibility that he knew about the IPO.
Dad was silent.
Then he said something unexpected.
“Your mother knew too.”
My entire body went still.
“What?”
He exhaled.
“Not details.”
“How do you know?”
“Because last summer she asked me strange questions about Julian.”
“What questions?”
“Whether founders keep stock when companies sell.”
I sat down slowly.
Dad continued.
“I didn't think anything of it.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I had no idea.”
He paused.
“Gwen, I think your mother believed you were going to become very wealthy.”
I closed my eyes.
The wedding.
The lies.
The party.
The sudden demands.
Maybe those weren't separate events.
Maybe Mom hadn't cared about losing me because she assumed money would eventually bring me back.
Or worse.
Maybe she thought guilt would.
Dad said, “There's something else.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
“I checked the home equity documents.”
“And?”
“The money didn't all go to Austin.”
I gripped the phone.
“Where did it go?”
“Twenty thousand went into an account I don't recognize.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
Julian looked toward me from across the kitchen.
I put Dad on speaker.
“What kind of account?” Julian asked.
Dad gave him the routing details.
Julian wrote them down.
Then Dad said, “There was also a cashier's check.”
“How much?” I asked.
“Fifteen thousand.”
“To whom?”
Dad hesitated.
Then he read the name.
Brooke went pale.
I stared at her.
May you like
Because the name on the check belonged to Brooke's ex-husband.
And suddenly the damage my mother had been hiding had nothing to do with Austin alone.
