My Fiancée Sent My Daughter to Sit in the Bathroom During Our Wedding — When I Found Out Why, I Knew I Had to Teach Her a Lesson

“Juniper said you were in my office last night,” I said. “She said you took papers from the blue folder.”

Maribel’s eyes flicked toward the house. “I was looking for tape. Decorations needed—”

Her patience snapped.

“Three papers,” I cut in.

Her smile thinned. “Grant, the music is starting. We can talk after.”

She reached for my hand with that bridal grin, fingers firm like she was trying to steer me. I pulled my hand away.

“No,” I said. “We’re talking now.”

Maribel’s face tightened. “Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” I said. “Protect my child?”

“You never met my wife.”

Her patience snapped, and she turned on me. “It’s not my fault she’s like her mother.”

The world went quiet inside my head. My lungs stopped for a beat.

I spoke carefully. “You never met my wife.”

Maribel blinked, and color drained from her face. “People talk,” she said too fast. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

I stared at her. “You used her mother against her.”

Maribel’s smile tried to return, brittle. “Grant, don’t ruin this. Not in front of everyone.”

I took the mic.