Chapter 2

Ryan' s feigned disappointment was a masterpiece of manipulation. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, his brow furrowed with concern.

"I can' t believe this, Gabby," he said, his voice low and serious, loud enough for everyone to hear. "This is exactly the kind of drama I was worried about. My family... they' re simple people. They don' t understand this kind of recklessness."

He gestured toward my father, who flinched as if he' d been struck.

"And the dowry..." Ryan sighed, shaking his head. "You know my family' s traditions. The bride' s family contributes. Without that money, I don' t see how we can move forward with the wedding. It' s a matter of respect."

He was putting on a show, and his family was the audience. The uncles, Carl and his brother Mike, looked smug. Jennifer was examining her long, painted nails, a smirk playing on her lips. They had set the trap, and my father had walked right into it.

My mother' s hand tightened on my arm. "Gabrielle, let' s just go home. We' ll figure this out."

But I wasn' t leaving. Not yet.

I looked at Ryan, at his uncles, at Jennifer. I saw the whole pathetic, greedy scheme laid out before me. They thought they had won. They thought they had broken us.

I took a deep breath, my voice steady and calm. "It' s not over."

I walked toward the table, my heels clicking on the concrete patio. I pulled out the chair my father had just vacated.

"I want to play."

The group stared at me. Ryan' s uncles exchanged a confused glance. Jennifer finally looked up from her nails, her eyes narrowed.

"What are you talking about, Gabby?" Ryan scoffed. "You don' t have any money. You gave it all to your dad." He knew I' d just finished a small freelance design gig, that I might have a few hundred dollars at most. He was enjoying this, the public humiliation.

"I have some cash left," I said, my voice even. "I want a chance to win it back."

My father looked at me, his eyes pleading. "No, honey. Don' t. It' s my fault. I' ll fix this."

I placed a hand on his shoulder, the same way my mother had. "It' s okay, Dad. Let me handle this."

I sat down. The game was about to change.