Crawford Whitlock tapped his spoon against the champagne glass twice, and the wedding reception fell silent.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Rooms had always gone quiet for him.<\/p>\n
He spoke about legacy, family, and standards. Then he pointed directly at me.<\/p>\n
He told nearly two hundred guests that I had spent three years manipulating his son and that I was nothing more than a gold digger marrying up.<\/p>\n
My mother covered her mouth.<\/p>\n
Emmett slammed his hand against the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cGet out.\u201d<\/p>\n
I touched his arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then I walked across the hardwood floor in my ivory dress and held out my hand.<\/p>\n
Crawford smiled.<\/p>\n
He placed a pen in my palm and slid a document toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cSmart,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
I read the first page.<\/p>\n
Then I signed my full name.<\/p>\n
His smile widened as he snatched the document back.<\/p>\n
He thought he had won.<\/p>\n
I reached for the microphone in his other hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cActually,\u201d I said, \u201cI\u2019m very happy to sign that.\u201d<\/p>\n
THE STORY CONTINUES ON THE NEXT PAGE… \ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47\ud83d\udc47<\/p>\n