A loud gasp came through the speaker, followed by Khloe’s furious voice snatching the phone from my mother. “Trevor, you arrogant jerk!” Khloe screamed, her voice cracking with pure outrage. “You did this on purpose! You knew my party was today! Victor’s expensive ice sculptures are floating down the driveway! My dress is ruined! My future in-laws think we’re white trash who can’t even host a gathering without a sewage backup! Turn it back on right now!”

I took the phone off speaker, pulled it close to my ear, and felt something cold and clear settle over my heart.

“Khloe,” I said, my voice steady, quiet, and completely devoid of the hesitation I had carried my entire life.

“Audrey, tell your husband to fix this!” Khloe demanded, weeping hysterical tears. “Mom and Dad are losing their minds! Victor is screaming at the manager!”

“Did you know,” I said slowly, “that there are thirty-seven empty chairs in this room right now?”

The line went silent for a brief second. “What?” Khloe spat. “What are you talking about?”

“Thirty-seven chairs,” I repeated, looking over at the pristine, white-covered seats that my mother, father, sister, aunts, and cousins were supposed to be sitting in. “I set them up myself. I spent last night worrying that I wasn’t good enough, that my wedding didn’t matter because it didn’t cost a fortune, and that my family preferred a wealthy stranger over the sister who spent her whole life helping them.”

“Audrey, this isn’t about your little budget party!” Khloe yelled. “This is a crisis!”

“No, Khloe,” I said, holding Trevor’s hand tightly. “It was a crisis when you tried to erase my wedding day. Trevor didn’t ruin your party. Your fiancé’s arrogance did. He ignored legal notices because he thought a small-business owner in work boots didn’t have the authority to enforce his own property lines. He treated Trevor the exact same way you and Mom treated him.”

“Audrey, please,” my mother’s voice came back on the line, suddenly timid, pleading, and desperate. “Honey, we’re your family. You can’t do this to us. Just have Trevor drive over and turn the wheel. It will take him five minutes. We’ll come to your marina right after, I promise! We’ll bring whatever is left of the cake!”

I looked at Trevor. He didn’t offer a word of anger. He didn’t smirkingly gloat or demand an apology. He simply stood beside me, solid as an oak, waiting for my decision. He had given me the power to choose how this ended.