“Oh, please. What are you accusing us of now? Being in love? Grieving imperfectly? Trying to make a family?”
Grandma turned toward the guests.
“My daughter died believing her husband and sister had emptied an account meant for Chloe’s college expenses.”
A ripple went through the room.
Dad pointed at her.
“That is a lie.”
Grandma pulled a packet of papers from beneath the box lid.
“Bank statements. Transfers. Wedding deposits. Venue invoice. Dress invoice. Floral deposit. Custom champagne tower. Two hundred thousand dollars for a wedding paid for with money that was never yours.”
My stomach dropped.
The wedding planner whispered, “Oh my God.”
Valerie whipped around. “Don’t you dare act shocked. You knew the budget.”
The planner blinked.
“I knew the budget. I didn’t know it was stolen.”
Dad’s face twisted.
“It wasn’t stolen. Sarah and I were married. That money was marital property.”
Grandma looked at him like he had disappointed her for the last time.
“The trust account was not.”
I looked at Dad.
“My college fund?”
He didn’t answer.
Valerie answered for him.
“Oh, don’t look so wounded, Chloe. You work at a café. You weren’t exactly headed to Harvard.”
The room went dead.
I felt it then.