“She said it sounded like you.”
That hurt more than it should have.
“Did it?”
Daniel took time.
“Somewhat.”
I laughed bitterly.
Of course.
Because I had said things.
Not this.
But enough adjacent things that a forgery could borrow my shape.
I had told Daniel, during one argument about their budget:
“I am not funding a marriage that begins with both of you acting irresponsible.”
What I meant was:
I will not keep adding money beyond the agreed wedding budget.
What Emily heard was:
Your marriage remains financially dependent on my approval.
I had said:
“If you two want to change the venue again, you pay the difference.”
Reasonable.
But I had also said:
“I cannot keep writing blank checks while being treated like a guest.”
Less reasonable.
Money had become my language of hurt.
That gave the fake messages credibility.
Daniel said:
“Emily thought you were escalating.”
“And you?”
“I didn’t know.”
“So you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the wedding building.
“Did anyone think asking me directly might be useful?”
He closed his eyes.
“No.”
“Good system.”
“I know.”
Then:
“Claire, there was another thing.”
Of course.
“Go.”
Daniel looked miserable.
“Your speech.”
“What about it?”
“Emily thinks you sent a draft to my mother saying you planned to tell guests Dad would have hated the wedding.”
I stared.
“What?”
Daniel opened another screenshot.
An email supposedly from me to Rebecca.
Subject:
RE: TOAST.
The body read:
I’m not pretending Michael would have supported how all this has been handled. If Emily wants me to speak, I’m going to tell the truth about what her father believed marriage should look like.
I went cold.
“I never wrote this.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“I believe you now.”
“Now.”
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
Then another thought.
“Why does Rebecca have this email?”
He went very still.
“She forwarded it.”
“To?”
“Emily.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
My hands tightened.
Evidence.
Not conclusions.
Still.
One fake email could be coincidence.
Two fake messages.
A fake resort notification.
All surrounding the wedding.
All positioning me as the enemy.
And one person had received or had access to all three.
“Where is Rebecca?”
“At the reception.”
“Does Emily know the honeymoon email is fake?”
“No.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Tell her.”
He nodded.
“Right now.”
He started to leave.
Then stopped.
“Are you coming?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“She told me to leave.”
“She was wrong.”
“That does not mean I get to ignore the boundary because new evidence helps me.”