“Along with the certified return receipts signed by Ethan’s unit adjutant eight years ago.”

Natalie turned to Ethan, her arms still folded tightly against her emerald dress, her face set in cold, total clarity.

“Our wedding is on hold indefinitely,” Natalie said, her voice carrying across the whole hall.

“I won’t marry a man who invents a dead child to protect his corporate image.”

“Natalie, think about what you’re doing,” Ethan pleaded, stepping down from the stair.

“We have two hundred guests confirmed for June in Denver.”