“Why didn’t you stop it?” I demanded.

His voice cracked. “I couldn’t ruin her day without proof. But you needed to know first. We have to tell her.”

That night, we sat in the kitchen, the house dark but for the clock’s faint glow. Dad slid the letter toward me, his hands trembling.

My dear Michael, I know you don’t want contact, but I cannot stay silent anymore. Your father kept you from me, but I’ve always loved you. Your new life in Chicago sounds promising. Please don’t shut me out completely.

The neat signature read: Rebecca Lane.

Tears stung my eyes. “If this is true, Sophia has to know. But on her wedding night?”

“There’s never a good time,” Dad said. “But waiting makes it worse.”

At dawn, we drove to the hotel where Sophia and Michael were staying. My chest tightened as we knocked on their door. Michael opened it, still in his wrinkled tux, Sophia behind him with her hair undone, eyes glowing.

“Dad? What’s going on?” she asked.

Thomas stepped forward and handed her the letter. “Sophia, you need to read this.”

Her eyes scanned the page, widening in horror. Michael’s face drained of color.

“Michael,” she whispered, “is this true?”

His silence was answer enough. Sophia’s knees gave way, and I caught her as she collapsed.

That was the moment everything shattered. The wedding that began as the happiest day of her life ended in devastation. And as I held my sobbing sister, I knew nothing in our family would ever be the same again.