Watching her dance should have been one of the happiest moments of my life.
Instead, I could barely breathe.
Because sitting three tables away was Vivian Harper — the woman who destroyed my family twenty-two years earlier.
And she had just sent a wedding gift addressed directly to me.
Not the bride.
Not the groom.
Me.
At first, I ignored it.
The box sat untouched beside my dinner plate while guests toasted the newlyweds and champagne glasses clinked across the room. But every time I looked at it, dread curled tighter in my stomach.
