“That’s the first sincere thing someone in your family has told me.”

—Please —he said, and this time the desperation was noticeable—. If this gets out of control, it won’t just be embarrassing. The premises threaten legal action. Vivian’s family is already blaming us. My parents are very worried. Ethan says you guys have the funds.

Yes I did. Years of careful investment, a recent bonus, and an inheritance he had kept separate for a reason. But having money and giving it away are two very different things.

—These are my conditions —said.

Silence.

“First of all, I’m not sending a cent to Vivian, her father or you. I transfer it directly to the event location after speaking with the finance manager and receiving the invoice.”

“Okay.”

“Secondly, Ethan will sign a postnuptial agreement when I return home.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“That’s between you two.”

“It became your business the moment you called me.”

He didn’t argue.

“Third, before the reception resumes, Vivian makes a public announcement thanking me on my behalf for saving her wedding.”

“Claire, she never…”

“So, enjoy the dried chicken and police reports.”

He muttered something on the phone and then came back in a defeated voice. “Anything else?”

—Yes —I said—. Your brother flies to Rome tomorrow. Alone.

The silence that followed was so absolute that I thought the call had been cut off.

Then Connor said, “Are you serious?”.

“I have never spoken so seriously.”

More muffled discussions. Then Ethan spoke again.

—I’ll go —he said quietly.

It should have been a victory. In reality, it was total exhaustion.

—Good —I said—. Now, put in the finance manager.

Within minutes, I received the bill, with all the charges detailed: from the last-minute ice sculpture to a second caviar station that cost more than my monthly mortgage. I requested written confirmation that my payment would only settle the premises’ account, and not any personal debt. Then, I transferred the money. Clean. Direct. Definitely.

I was left waiting for the announcement.