Caleb reached for my hand. “He’s still tied up in litigation, and he never told Rowan any of this,” he said quietly. “We have to tell her.”
“But she won’t believe it if it comes from us,” I replied, my voice cracking. “Not privately—especially not while he still has control.”
He met my gaze. “Then we don’t do it in private.”
And that was when the plan took shape.
“Then we make it public.”
Inside, the reception was in full celebration mode. Candlelight bathed the room in a golden glow. Laughter rose above the music as guests clinked glasses and posed in front of the flower wall. Rowan looked luminous in her ivory gown, seated beside Arthur, who played the part of the proud groom perfectly. The contrast was unreal.
Everyone was celebrating—
and yet my heart was hammering like an alarm.
Caleb turned to me one last time. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “If he survives in the dark, then we expose him to the light.”
Moments later, Caleb stepped onto the small stage, microphone in hand. The emcee introduced him as the groom’s stepson—an odd label given the circumstances, but no one questioned it.
He stood straight and composed, though I could see the tension tightening his shoulders.
