You wanted an open bar for everyone.
You wanted the whole family up front.
You told me, more than once, that you wanted every single guest treated like the most important person in the room.
Those conversations happened.
I have them here.”
She tapped the binder. ”
And every time, within a day or two, I would get a follow-up from Whitney’s account.
Quietly reversing it.
Cutting the thing you’d just approved.
Adding a fee you didn’t know about.
Moving someone you’d wanted up front to a table by the kitchen.”
“Why?”
Ryan said.
He wasn’t looking at Melissa anymore.
He was looking at his wife. ”
We had the money.
We had more than enough money.
Why would you—”