My Father Pushed Me Into a Fountain at My Sister’s Wedding—Then He Met the Husband I’d Kept Private for Three Years

There was a note about which address should be used for me.

Sophie had retained it with the planning material because Graham’s office had helped organize family contacts.

We could see enough to raise a question.

The cropped phone view did not tell us who had typed the instruction, what other messages existed, or how the account had been managed.

We would need the full chain.

“Dad gave me the address,” she said again.

“Yes.”