Then she said something that froze the air.
“It’s not my fault she’s like her mother.”
Everything inside my head went silent.
“You never even met my wife,” I said slowly.
Maribel’s color drained. “People talk,” she muttered quickly. “I didn’t mean—”
“You used her mother against her,” I said.
She tried to recover her smile. “Grant, don’t ruin this in front of everyone.”
Instead of answering, I walked toward the microphone.
The guests quieted as I picked it up.
“Before we start the ceremony,” I said, “I need to explain why my daughter wasn’t in her seat.”
Maribel whispered sharply behind me, “Grant, stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
“I’m protecting my child,” I replied.
“Junie,” I called gently. “Can you come here?”
Juniper walked out of the house holding my brother’s hand.
I crouched beside her and lowered the microphone.
“Tell me what she told you.”
Juniper swallowed. “She said I ruin things,” she said clearly. “She said if I told you what I saw, you’d choose me and she’d lose.”
A murmur moved through the crowd.
“She was in your office last night,” Juniper continued. “She took papers from the blue folder.”
Maribel laughed nervously. “She’s nine. She’s imagining things.”
Juniper looked straight at her.
“I counted,” she said. “Three papers. You put them in your purse.”
The smile disappeared from Maribel’s face.
“Maribel,” I said calmly, “give me your purse.”
She stepped back. “No.”
