Our mother sat down slowly. “Olivia, are you really going to cancel your sister’s wedding?”
I met her eyes. “Did you ask Vanessa if she was really going to ban me?”
She looked away.
That hurt more than I expected.
Vanessa finally asked, “What do you want?”
There it was. Not how to fix it—just the transaction.
I closed the file. “First, you apologize. Clearly. No excuses. Second, my invitation is reinstated publicly before the rehearsal dinner. Third, you stop describing my work as embarrassing or low-class. Permanently.”
Her face hardened. “That’s it?”
“No. Those are the personal terms.”
Trevor leaned forward. “And the business terms?”
I almost respected him.
I slid a page across the table. “Revised venue addendum. High-risk event hold. Additional security. Staff protection fee. Balance due today.”
Vanessa picked it up. “Twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“Yes.”
She looked stunned. “That’s insane.”
“No,” I said. “What’s insane is insulting the owner of a luxury venue and expecting premium grace for free.”
Trevor took the paper, read it carefully. He understood.
My mother whispered, “Vanessa, apologize.”
