Chapter 3

Zach gripped my shoulders, his tone softening.

"I'll make this up to you. You're a designer. Coming up with another design shouldn't be that hard for you.

"Come on, enough. I admit I handled the wedding badly. Zoe suddenly decided she wanted to know what it felt like to have one, and I couldn't exactly refuse her. I figured I could get away with keeping it from you. We can always have ours another day."

We had been together for five years. After five years together, we'd even had our charts read, and both families had helped us settle on what was supposed to be the perfect wedding date. Yet he had thrown it all aside that easily for a reason like that.

With that, he left.

My parents were still outside, so I swallowed the bitterness and forced myself to set the whole thing aside for the moment.

When I reached the restaurant, the last person I expected to see was Zach.

He and Zoe were in a corner of the hallway, and I couldn't tell what they were doing. Zach stood protectively beside her as he asked in a gentle voice, "What's wrong? Who was picking on you?"

I had no interest in dealing with either of them and was about to leave when I heard a familiar voice.

My niece, Mia Miller.

I hurried over and found Zach holding onto her, refusing to let her go. His grip was so tight that her little hand had turned red. She was only six, and she was frightened enough that tears kept spilling down her cheeks.

"I didn't say anything bad about her," she cried. "She was the one saying mean things about Aunt Wendy first."

Zach snapped at her, "Who taught you to talk like that? Did you call Zoe shameless and say she did something dirty for a living? You can't just say things like that about people. Apologize!"

I shoved him away and pulled my niece into my arms.

"Zach Lewis, what the hell are you doing?" I hurried over.

I asked my niece several times what had happened, and every time she insisted she had never said any of those things. All she had done was tell Zoe not to say bad things about me.

I knew how our family had raised her, and I knew what kind of child she was. My heart ached at the thought of a six-year-old being dragged into this mess.

My parents and brother had noticed she'd been gone to the bathroom for a long time and came looking for her. The second my brother saw Zach, his temper flared.

"Today was supposed to be my sister's wedding, and you still haven't given her an explanation for what you did. Now you're accusing my daughter too? I believe my daughter. If you don't, check the security footage."

Zach showed no remorse whatsoever.

"That's a separate issue."

He still insisted that my niece apologize.

We all had someone we chose to believe. Just as Zach accepted Zoe's version without question, we believed my niece.

My parents were furious too.

"She's not apologizing. Our family has some pride, too! You ignored us and dragged the wedding out for half the day, then helped yourselves to my liquor so you could have your fun."

Of course my family had seen everything that had been posted online. They had been so angry that they'd spent a long while at the restaurant just trying to calm down.

Zach didn't bother denying any of it. Instead, he gave them a polished, self-justifying explanation.

Zoe's eyes grew even redder.

After a long silence, Zach finally said, "Don't push me. The title transfer on that house isn't finished yet. I can still put it in someone else's name."

I stared at him in disbelief.

That house had been my parents' old family home, a small villa that meant more to all of us than I could put into words. Calling it an emotional anchor for our family wouldn't have been an exaggeration.

Three years ago, Zach's business had run into trouble and desperately needed cash. I had been the one to take him to my parents and ask for help.

At the time, there happened to be a buyer willing to pay cash and close quickly, making him the best option. My parents trusted Zach and wanted to help him through the crisis, so they sold the house and gave him the money he needed.

Back then, Zach had dropped to his knees and sworn, "I promise you, I'll buy the house back."

He then went to the buyer and signed a separate agreement. As long as the house was kept intact and the buyer didn't move in for three years, Zach would repurchase it at three times the market price once those three years were up.

The buyer had originally intended to live there himself, but in the end, he decided the deal was worth the gamble and agreed.

For the next three years, someone regularly cleaned and maintained the house so it would remain exactly as it was.

I stayed by Zach through those three grueling years, and we finally made it through. Once he was back on his feet, the first thing he did was buy the house back.

My parents had been deeply relieved. They thought they had been right to trust him.

And now, with the paperwork still unfinished, Zach was holding that very house over our heads, knowing exactly how much it meant to my family.