My dad laughed and told me to walk myself down the aisle because I was marrying a nobody. Mom sat beside him in the back row while I walked alone, gripping my bouquet. Then the chapel doors opened, and thirty strangers in matching grey lined the aisle before one faced my father and said, “Sir—”

The elaborate reception my father had booked at the historic Francis Marion Hotel—complete with a five-tier cake, an eighteen-piece swing band, and a thirty-thousand-dollar catering menu—was obviously canceled. SLED investigators had already impounded the corporate credit cards used to secure the venue, and half the guest list was currently calling their criminal defense attorneys.

We didn't care.

An hour after the ceremony ended, our real wedding reception took place at Melvin’s Diner, a twenty-four-hour greasy spoon located on the edge of North Charleston. The diner was owned by Melvin Hayes, the father of a young man Ethan had cleared of armed robbery charges two years prior.

When our caravan of vehicles pulled into the neon-lit parking lot, Melvin had already locked the front door to the general public, turned on the jukebox, and laid red-and-white checkered tablecloths over every booth.

"Order whatever you want!" Melvin shouted, wiping his hands on his white apron as Ethan and I walked through the door in our wedding attire. "Burgers, steaks, milkshakes, waffles! Tonight, the house belongs to the attorney who saved my boy!"

The room erupted into cheers as the thirty strangers from the chapel filled the vinyl booths. My ivory silk dress looked entirely out of place against the chrome and vinyl of the diner booth, but I had never felt more comfortable in my life.

Ethan sat beside me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, while Marcus Bell pulled up a chrome stool across from us.

"Maya," Marcus said, setting a glass of iced tea down in front of me, "I know today was a shock. You probably think Ethan planned this dramatic reveal to humiliate your father."

"Did he?" I asked, looking sideways at my new husband with a faint, questioning smile.

"No," Marcus said firmly. "Ethan fought us on this for two weeks. When his team uncovered the paper trail connecting your father’s charity to the dirty cops who framed my son, Ethan wanted to quiet-file the lawsuit after your honeymoon. He knew how much you wanted a peaceful wedding."

Ethan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "The state attorney general’s office took it out of my hands, Maya. Once they realized Richard was attempting to transfer eight million dollars of charity capital to an offshore bank account in the Cayman Islands last night... they moved the arrest timeline up to today. They were afraid he was going to buy a private jet ticket right after the reception."

I sat in silence for a moment, processing the sheer scale of my father's deceit. He hadn't just been a arrogant, controlling parent; he was a desperate criminal on the run, using my wedding as a social smokescreen to cover his tracks before fleeing the country.

Before I could answer, the bell above the diner door chimed.

The entire diner fell dead silent. Marcus stood up from his stool, his hand reflexively hovering near his jacket, while Melvin paused mid-flip with his spatula at the grill.

Standing at the front entrance of the diner was my brother, Caleb. He was still wearing his groomsman tuxedo, but his tie was undone, hanging loosely around his unbuttoned collar. Behind him, looking frail and completely stripped of her social standing, was my mother, Katherine.

Caleb looked around the crowded diner, his eyes wide with anxiety, until he spotted me sitting in the booth near the back.

"Maya..." Caleb called out, his voice raw. "Can we... can we talk to you?"

Ethan started to slide out of the booth to protect me, but I gently placed my hand on his knee, stopping him.