Before we reached the altar, my three-year-old grandson squeezed my hand and whispered, “Grandpa, she was mean to Mommy.” Then he pointed toward my future wife and pulled a USB drive from his tiny pocket—one that would soon reveal the truth she had been hiding.

I opened another screenshot.

Monica to R.

The old man still thinks he’s protecting his daughter.

Once we’re married, I’ll control access.

R.

What about the grandson?

Monica.

He’s three.

He won’t matter.

I looked at Lucas.

He sat on the bed watching cartoons.

One small hand holding the headphones in place.

He mattered.

More than she could ever understand.

PART 16

Security arrived.

Martin knocked twice.

Then identified himself.

I opened the door.

Monica was no longer there.

Good.

Martin entered with two guards.

I told him.

“Block Monica from this floor.”

“Do not restrain her unless necessary.”

“Do not let her leave the property until police advise.”

Martin’s expression sharpened.

“Police?”

“Yes.”

I showed him the video.

Not everything.

Just enough.

His face changed.

Then he asked.

“Do you want the ceremony stopped?”

“Yes.”

“Quietly.”

“Tell the coordinator there is a medical emergency.”

“No announcement about Monica.”

“Not yet.”

PART 17