Chapter 5 - The Price of Being the Favorite
By the following morning, half my extended family knew what had happened.
By lunchtime, almost all of them did.
Not because I told them.
Because Victoria did.
Her version was dramatic.
According to her, Ethan had used his wealth to cancel her wedding because I was jealous.
According to her, my mother had merely tried to “switch dates between sisters.”
According to her, nobody had stolen anything because we were all family anyway.
The missing $100,000 was not mentioned.
Neither was the $150,000 Mom had given her.
Neither were the unauthorized charges.
My cousin Jenna sent screenshots from the family group chat.
Victoria: I never thought my own sister would use her husband’s money to punish me.
Mom: This family needs prayers right now.
Aunt Denise responded with a heart emoji.
I stared at that one for a while.
Apparently Denise had recovered from the discomfort she had shown at the meeting.
Ethan was sitting across from me at breakfast.
“Stop reading it,” he said.
“I’m fascinated.”
“You’re angry.”
“Those things can coexist.”
He took a sip of coffee.
“You know defending yourself in a family group chat rarely ends well.”
“I’m not responding.”
“Good.”
“I’m saving screenshots.”
He smiled.
“That’s my wife.”
The truth was, something had changed after the family meeting.
For years, every confrontation with Mom and Victoria left me doubting myself.
Had I been too harsh?
Too sensitive?
Too unforgiving?
This time, there were documents.
Invoices.
Contracts.
Bank transfers.
There was something almost freeing about having evidence.
My mother could rewrite memories.
She couldn’t rewrite paperwork.
At noon, Richard called.
I nearly ignored him.
We had never been close.
He married Mom when I was twenty-seven, long after Victoria and I had left home.
He generally stayed out of family conflicts.
That had always irritated me.
Staying neutral in an unfair situation usually helped the person creating it.
But I answered.
“Hi, Richard.”
“Amelia.”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Can we talk?”
“If this is about restoring the wedding—”
“It isn’t.”
I paused.
“All right.”
“I spoke with the accountant.”
“What accountant?”
“The one who handles the rental properties.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did you find?”
“The sale proceeds.”
He hesitated.
“Your mother lied to me too.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter.
“How much?”
“The property sold for six hundred eighty-two thousand.”
I knew the approximate amount.
Mom had bragged about the market price when it sold.
“After taxes and closing costs, approximately five hundred ninety thousand remained.”
“And?”
“She transferred one hundred fifty thousand to Victoria.”
“We know that.”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“Three months before the sale, she refinanced another property.”
“How much?”
“One hundred twenty thousand.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Where did that go?”
“Victoria.”
I closed my eyes.
Two hundred seventy thousand dollars.
Richard continued.
“I didn’t know.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because I should have.”
I waited.
“I spent years staying out of the relationship between you, your mother, and Victoria,” he said. “I told myself it wasn’t my place.”
I said nothing.
“I was wrong.”
That surprised me.
Richard wasn’t a man who apologized easily.
“Your mother told me you were independent and didn’t want help.”
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
He sounded ashamed.
“She told me Victoria struggled and you didn’t.”
“That part is true.”
“No.”
His voice sharpened.
“You struggled quietly.”
Something in my chest tightened.
No one in my family had ever said that.
Richard continued.
“I confused your ability to survive with proof that you didn’t need support.”
I looked toward the window.
Seattle rain again.
Always rain lately.
“What are you going to do?” I asked.
“I’m separating our finances.”
I turned around.
“What?”
“I’m not filing for divorce today. But I discovered debts and transfers she never disclosed.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not calling for sympathy.”
He exhaled.
“I’m calling because she’s planning something.”
My shoulders stiffened.
“What?”
“I heard her talking to Victoria this morning. They want to go to Hawthorne Ridge in person.”
“Why?”
“They think if they meet the staff directly, they can convince someone to restore the event.”
I almost laughed.
“They don’t understand the situation at all.”
“No.”
“Does Caleb know?”
“He won’t speak to Victoria.”
That surprised me less.
“What about his parents?”
“They’ve apparently asked for their deposits back from several vendors.”
So the postponed wedding was drifting toward canceled.
Richard continued.
“Your mother believes if she can get the venue restored, Caleb will reconsider.”
“That’s not how trust works.”
“I know.”
After we ended the call, I told Ethan.
He frowned.
“They’re driving to Hawthorne Ridge?”
“Apparently.”
“They’ll be turned away.”
“Could they cause trouble?”
“Probably.”
He picked up his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure security knows they may arrive.”
I groaned.
“This is becoming insane.”
“No. It was insane when your mother thought she could transfer a $100,000 event contract with a phone call.”
Fair point.
Three days later, Ethan had business in San Francisco connected to the acquisition.
I went with him.
Not because of Mom.
At least that’s what I told myself.
Hawthorne Ridge was an hour north.
The new management team requested a meeting with Ethan on Friday afternoon.
We drove there together.
I had only visited twice before.
The first time had been with Mom, when she had excitedly walked through the glass ballroom and promised me that this wedding would be her gift.
The memory felt different now.
The estate looked exactly as beautiful as I remembered.
Rows of vines disappeared over gentle hills.
White roses climbed limestone walls.
Tall windows reflected the afternoon sun.
For a moment, I felt genuine grief.
I had wanted this.
Not the expensive flowers.
Not the photographs.
I had wanted the meaning.
I had wanted a mother who had chosen something beautiful for me.
Instead, she had simply created another thing to give Victoria.
Ethan touched my back.
“You okay?”
“I will be.”
We entered the main building.
The general manager, Rebecca Cho, met us in the lobby.
She was elegant, efficient, and deeply embarrassed.
“Mrs. Cole, I want to personally apologize for how this was handled.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“As general manager, it was ultimately my responsibility.”
She explained that the events coordinator involved had believed my mother was authorized because Mom had been present during early planning.
Once Mom claimed that I had “stepped aside” and Victoria would replace me, the coordinator updated the internal event file without requesting legal documentation.
“A serious procedural failure,” Rebecca said.
Ethan nodded.
“And corrected?”
“Immediately.”
She handed him a compliance report.
“We also found something else.”
She looked toward me.
“Your sister attempted to access the bridal cottage yesterday.”
I stared.
“She came here?”
“With your mother.”
Richard’s warning.
“What happened?”
“Security refused them entry.”
Rebecca paused.
“Your sister became upset.”
“That sounds like Victoria.”
“She told staff that she was the owner’s sister-in-law.”
I turned slowly toward Ethan.
He looked almost amused.
“She what?”
“She said Mr. Cole had personally approved the wedding but that there was confusion among the transition team.”
I covered my eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize,” Rebecca said.
“Did she actually use my name?” Ethan asked.
“Yes.”
His amusement disappeared.
“What exactly did she say?”
Rebecca pulled up a written incident report.
Victoria had told security:
Ethan Cole is my brother-in-law. Call him. He’ll fire anyone who keeps me outside.
I stared at the page.
“She threatened your employees with your name.”
“So it appears.”
“That may be a new record.”
Rebecca almost smiled.
“They were escorted from the property.”
Then she hesitated.
“There is one other matter.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Mrs. Hale left several boxes.”
“My mother?”
“She insisted they contained personal wedding decorations and said we were legally required to store them.”
“Where are they?”
“In secured storage.”
“Can we see them?”
Rebecca led us through a service corridor.
Five large cardboard boxes sat on a metal cart.
One had Victoria’s name written across the top.
Rebecca opened it.
Inside were custom menus.
Napkins.
Table markers.
And hundreds of small cream-colored cards.
I picked one up.
Victoria & Caleb
Below the names was a gold monogram.
I looked deeper.
Then stopped.
There was a photograph.
Victoria and Caleb standing in front of Hawthorne Ridge.
Except something was wrong.
“That photo was taken before they got engaged,” I said.
Rebecca looked puzzled.
“How can you tell?”
“Her hair.”
I remembered the weekend.
Victoria had visited Napa with Mom months earlier.
She told me it was a mother-daughter getaway.
Apparently, it had been a wedding-site inspection.
I picked up another item.
A planning binder.
Dates.
Vendor names.
Floor plans.
A page titled Guest Cottage Assignments.
My hands began shaking.
Ethan noticed.
“What is it?”
I turned the binder toward him.
The planning started seven months earlier.
Victoria had gotten engaged three weeks ago.
Seven months.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Did my sister visit this property before her engagement?”
Rebecca checked the records.
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
“Three.”
My stomach dropped.
The courthouse ceremony.
My mother’s apology.
Her promise to arrange a formal wedding.
It had all happened during that period.
I suddenly understood.
“This was never meant for me.”
Ethan looked at me.
“What?”
I swallowed hard.
“My mother never planned my wedding.”
I turned the planning binder around.
“She used us to secure the venue.”
Rebecca went silent.
The earliest pages contained notes about colors Victoria liked.
Food Victoria preferred.
Even bridal cottage requirements.
My mother hadn’t changed the wedding afterward.
She had designed Victoria’s wedding from the beginning and used Ethan’s money to reserve it.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe.
Then anger arrived.
Pure.
Sharp.
Clean.
“I want every document copied.”
Ethan looked at Rebecca.
“Of course.”
I closed the binder.
“And I want the original event canceled.”
Ethan studied my face.
“Our event?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
I looked around Hawthorne Ridge.
The gardens.
The ballroom.
The place I had once associated with reconciliation.
“I don’t want to marry you here again.”
Technically, we were already married.
But Ethan understood.
“This place belongs to a lie.”
He nodded.
“Then we cancel.”
Rebecca quietly asked, “What should we do with the date?”
I looked outside.
A group of groundskeepers were preparing chairs near a terrace.
Beyond them, sunlight settled over the vineyard.
For a moment, an idea appeared.
Not revenge.
Something better.
“Do you host charity events?”
Rebecca looked surprised.
“Yes.”
I turned toward Ethan.
He understood before I said anything.
“There’s a women’s shelter in Seattle I’ve supported for years.”
He smiled.
“The one with the transitional housing program?”
“Yes.”
“What are you thinking?”
I looked at the ballroom again.
“If my mother used our money to build a wedding for Victoria, then I want this place used for something she would never understand.”
Rebecca waited.
“A fundraiser.”
Ethan smiled wider.
“On our wedding date?”
“On our wedding date.”
For the first time since the phone call, Hawthorne Ridge no longer felt stolen.
It felt reclaimed.
Then Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
She read the screen.
Her expression changed.
“Mr. Cole.”
“What?”
“Security says Mrs. Hale is at the front gate again.”
I stared.
“With Victoria?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“No.”
“Who is she with?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Caleb.”
May you like
And suddenly the next conversation became far more interesting.
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