"He's already apologized, Lydia. Playing hard to get at this point is just petty."
"Do you have any idea how good Clay has been to you? Have you forgotten who performed your mother's surgery? Who arranged her follow-up care? A person shouldn't bite the hand that feeds them."
A sharp pain lanced through my chest.
My mother's stroke had been Roberta's doing. She'd deliberately played those bedroom photos at my wedding to my ex, broadcasting them for every guest to see. Then she'd eloped with him right there, leaving me as the punchline of the entire reception. The shock and fury sent my mother collapsing, unconscious.
To get her the treatment she needed, I'd transferred her from hospital to hospital until we ended up in Havenport, where I met Clay, a renowned neurosurgeon. Over the course of my mother's treatment, we'd gradually fallen in love.
I understood the threat buried in Julia's words. The Vances were a prominent family. If I ruined this wedding and embarrassed them, my mother would be thrown out of Vance Hospital.
"Mom!"
Clay cut Julia off, his tone measured but firm. "Lydia is my wife. Her mother is my mother-in-law. Taking care of her is my responsibility."
He turned to me, his voice softening into something close to a plea. "Sweetheart, if nothing else, at least for the sake of everything I've done for your mother, can we not make a scene today? Please?"
I dug my nails into my palms and let my expression crumple into something wounded and fragile.
"Clay, do you really not know that makeup artist? Because she whispered to me just now that you told her to make me look ugly on purpose, to get back at me for something. That's why I got upset."
The moment the words left my mouth, the guests who had been looking at me with disapproval shifted. Sympathy replaced their irritation.
A muscle twitched at the corner of Clay's mouth. Then he smoothed it over with a reassuring smile. "She was talking nonsense. Just jealous that you married well."
When I didn't respond, he sighed and relented. "I'll file a complaint against her right now. Would that make you feel better?"
Only then did I let myself smile. "Then you have to swear."
"If you really have anything to do with her, if you ever betray me, we divorce. No discussion."
Clay coaxed me gently, raised his right hand, and swore.
The guests laughed warmly. "You're overthinking it. Clay only has eyes for you."