144.Eleven seconds. That was how long Daniel and I got of our first dance before my younger sister, Khloe, turned our wedding reception into a celebration for herself.

Forty-eight hours later, the world was whitewashed stone, bougainvillea blossoms, and an endless expanse of cobalt-blue Aegean Sea.

Our villa in Oia was built directly into the volcanic cliffs, suspended between the sky and the water. Below our private terrace, the caldera sparkled like crushed sapphires under the Mediterranean sun. Our private infinity plunge pool spilled over the edge into the horizon, the water lapping gently against smooth grey stone.

Daniel came out onto the terrace wearing linen shorts and sunglasses, carrying two glasses of chilled Assyrtiko wine.

“Our driver for the catamaran tour tomorrow confirmed for 10:00 AM,” he said, handing me a glass and pulling a teak lounger next to mine. “And Lena just sent an encrypted email to my work account.”

I raised an eyebrow over my sunglasses. “Did she?”

Before we left Seattle, Daniel had given Lena his corporate email for emergency updates, specifically instructing her to forward anything that involved legal filings or police notices.

“Read it to me,” I said, stretching my legs out into the warm Grecian breeze.

Daniel opened his tablet. “From Lena: *‘Dear Daniel and Bonnie. Hope Greece is magnificent. Quick update from the home front. Brenda attempted to dispute the $8,450 cleaning charge with her bank on Monday. The bank denied the dispute after we provided the signed delivery slip and video footage of Tyler discharging the cannons.’*”

I took a slow sip of the crisp, mineral wine. “And?”

“*‘Brenda’s credit limit was exceeded, causing an immediate freeze on her accounts. Furthermore, Tyler’s father—who is a senior partner at a civil litigation firm in Bellevue—called the resort directly yesterday afternoon. He demanded a copy of the contract to verify Tyler’s liability.’*”

Daniel looked up from the screen, his grin wicked. “Tyler told his parents everything, Bonnie. The fake honeymoon, the forged credit cards, the forty-one thousand dollars of your money Brenda burned through.”

“What did his parents do?”

“*‘Tyler’s father informed Brenda that Tyler is officially moving his residency back to their family home, terminating all financial ties to Khloe, and filing an immediate preemptive custody petition for the child upon birth. He also informed Brenda that if she attempts to name Tyler as a co-signer on any of Khloe’s defaulted leases, they will file civil fraud charges against her before the ink is dry.’*”

I looked out at the distant ferry gliding across the caldera, heading toward the port of Fira.

A year ago, hearing that my sister was facing single motherhood and financial ruin would have sent me into an immediate, self-sacrificing panic. I would have spent my evenings drafting budgets, paying Tyler’s rent, and begging our family to stay together.

Now? I felt only the clean, cold reality of cause and effect.

Khloe had spent her entire twenties believing that someone else’s account would always cover her overdrafts. Mom had raised her to believe that pretty smiles, crocodile tears, and dramatic public spectacles were substitute currencies for labor and character.

The universe had finally presented the bill.

“Daniel?” I asked quietly.

“Yeah, love?”

“Let’s close the tablet.”

He didn't hesitate. He shut the magnetic case with a sharp snap, tossed it onto the teak table, and slid into the cool, turquoise water of the pool. He held his arms out toward me.

“Come here,” he said.