Chapter 5 - The Aftermath
The reception didn't recover. There was no first dance. There was no cutting of the three-tiered red velvet cake.
Within ten minutes of the video ending, Carson’s family had completely evacuated the head table. Carson had walked out the side doors toward the parking lot without saying a single word to Elise, ignoring her shrieks as she ran down the gravel path after him, her long ivory train dragging through the dirt and crushed wine grapes.
The guests didn't know whether to leave or stay. Half of my parents’ friends were hastily grabbing their coats and making awkward, rushed exits, while the other half were lingering near the bar, hungrily whispering to each other about the absolute trainwreck they had just witnessed.
My father was standing near the front of the room, his face pale, staring at the empty table where Carson’s wealthy relatives had been sitting five minutes ago. The networking opportunity of his lifetime, the marriage that was supposed to elevate our family’s social standing forever, was bleeding out on the vineyard floor.
Then, he remembered me.
He turned around slowly. His eyes locked onto Table 19.
He marched across the room, his fists clenched at his sides, his chest heaving under his tux. My mother followed right behind him, her eyes red and furious.
"You sociopath," my father hissed, stopping six inches from my chair. He leaned down, his face inches from mine, his breath hot and shaking. "You ruined her life. You ruined this family. Do you have any idea what you just did?!"
"I just played the video Elise asked for," I said softly, looking him dead in the eye. I didn't stand up. I didn't need to. "She wanted memories, Dad. I gave everyone the real ones."
"You distorted everything!" my mom screamed, her voice echoing off the walls of the rapidly emptying room. "We gave you a roof over your head! We fed you! We paid for your clothes! And you humiliate us in front of everyone we know?! Over what? Over your stupid, bitter little ego?!"
"You didn't give me a roof, Mom," I replied, my voice chillingly calm. "I paid rent to Dad starting the month I turned eighteen. Remember? Two hundred bucks a month for the basement room while Elise got her car insurance paid for."
My dad pointed a trembling finger at my face. "You are dead to us. Do you hear me? You pack your shit out of any storage unit with my name on it. You lose my number. You are no longer a son of mine."
I looked at him for a long moment. For twenty years, those words would have shattered me. They would have sent me into weeks of desperate apologetics, trying to prove my worth, trying to earn a crumb of his approval.
Now? It felt like someone had just lifted a two-hundred-pound sandbag off my chest.
"Deal," I said.
I stood up slowly, buttoning my charcoal suit jacket. I picked up my phone, adjusted my tie, and looked at my father, then my mother.
"Oh, by the way," I added, leaning in slightly. "I sent the full 4K render of that video to Carson’s dad’s personal email ten minutes before the toasts started. Just in case he wanted a permanent copy for his prenup lawyers."
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My dad’s jaw went completely slack. He looked like he’d been struck by lightning.
I turned around, patted little Toby on the head, and walked calmly down the center aisle of the ballroom, stepping over the forgotten rose petals on my way to the exit.
