His Entitled Sister Banned His 7-Year-Old Daughter from Her Luxury Wedding — Until the Venue Sent an Emergency Cancellation Notice

Alyssa’s eyes darted frantically between my father and the driveway. When she heard Marcus's name, her entire body went rigid with an entirely different kind of terror.

"No," she stammered, backing away. "No, Marcus can't know about this. Jordan, please. Don't make me go to Marcus."

I frowned, noticing the sudden shift from arrogant anger to pure, unadulterated dread. "Why not, Alyssa? Marcus is marrying you. His family is supposedly worth millions. If seventy-five thousand dollars is the price of keeping his mother happy, surely his family can write the check."

"She can't ask Marcus," my father whispered, suddenly looking ten years older, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Why?" I demanded, my gaze piercing through Richard. "What did you do?"

Richard swallowed hard, looking down at his polished leather loafers. "Marcus... Marcus already gave Alyssa sixty thousand dollars four months ago. For the catering and venue balance."

I stared at them, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly locking into place with sickening precision.

"Marcus gave you sixty thousand dollars?" I asked Alyssa, my voice dropping into utter disgust. "Then where is it? Because Rockville Gardens hasn't seen a single cent beyond the initial thirty-five thousand dollar deposit I paid from my company account."

Alyssa began weeping hysterically, mascara running in dark streaks down her cheeks. "I... I had to pay off my boutique credit lines, Jordan! And the designer gown in Manhattan was twenty-two thousand, not eight thousand! And I had to book the private jet for the bachelorette party in Cabo so the girls wouldn't think Marcus was stingy!"

"You embezzled your own fiancé’s wedding fund?" I laughed, a bitter, incredulous sound that echoed across the yard. "You spent his sixty grand on private jets and designer dresses, and then you set up a tacky rose-gold donation box in Mom's living room to shake down your family for the difference?"

"She was going to pay it back after the wedding!" Evelyn shrieked, grabbing my arm with frantic desperation. "Once they were legally married, Marcus's family trust would release his inheritance! Everything would have been smoothed over! Jordan, if Marcus finds out the venue is canceled, he will ask for the receipts! He will find out about the money! He will leave her at the altar!"

"Then he deserves to know who he’s actually marrying," I said coldly, wrenching my arm free from my mother’s grip.

"Jordan, I am begging you on my knees!" Alyssa dropped onto the stone driveway, her manicured hands clutching the hem of my jeans. "Call Julian Vance! Re-instate the guarantee! If Marcus cancels this wedding, my life is over! I will be the laughingstock of the entire city! Please, Jordan! For Mom and Dad! For the family name!"

I looked down at my sister kneeling at my feet.

Just twelve hours ago, she was tapping her pen against her clipboard, looking at my sweet, innocent daughter like she was a stain on a carpet. She had gladly crushed a grieving seven-year-old child's heart without batting an eyelash.

I took a step backward, forcing her hands to fall to the cold pavement.

"You care so much about your pictures, Alyssa," I said softly. "You forgot that real life doesn't come with an edit button."

Before she could scream again, a sleek black Range Rover turned into my driveway, its engine purring with quiet, expensive power.

The door opened.

Stepping out into the late morning sun was Marcus Montgomery—accompanied by his mother, Victoria.