Chapter 2

Emily didn't give up. The next day, she called him.

"I told Mother you were being difficult," she said, her voice dripping with accusation. "She said you're probably just bitter and poor. But you have to come. What will people think if my own father doesn't show up to my wedding?"

"What people, Emily?" Liam asked, his voice calm. "Your mother's new friends? The ones who think I'm a deadbeat loser? Why would they even notice I'm not there?"

"It's about respect! It's about family!" she insisted, her voice rising.

Liam could picture Sarah in the background, coaching her, feeding her lines. He had seen through their manipulations for years. This wasn't about family. It was about appearances. And for them to be this insistent, there had to be more to it. They needed something.

"Fine," he said suddenly. "I'll be there."

Silence on the other end of the line. Emily was clearly stunned that he had agreed so easily. "Oh. Good. Just... remember what I said. Don't cause a scene."

"Don't worry," Liam said, a thin smile playing on his lips. "I'll be perfectly behaved."

He hung up the phone. His friends, who had gathered at his modest home for coffee, looked at him with concern.

"Are you sure about this, Liam?" David asked, his legal mind likely running through all the potential negative outcomes. "This sounds like a trap."

"It is a trap," Liam agreed, pouring himself another coffee. "But they've forgotten who they're trying to trap." He looked at his friends. "She said it herself. It's a family event. And I have some family business to attend to. It's time I took back what was unjustly taken from me."

Olivia nodded slowly, a glint in her eye. "What do you need from us?"

"For now, just enjoy the show," Liam said. "But be ready."

The day of the wedding arrived. It was held at a lavish country club, the kind of place that reeked of new money and desperation. Liam pulled up not in a fancy car, but in his reliable, ten-year-old truck. He wore a simple, well-tailored dark suit that didn't scream for attention but fit him perfectly.

As he walked toward the entrance, two large security guards stepped in his way.

"Invitation, sir?" one of them grunted.

"Liam. Father of the bride," he said simply.

The guard checked his list. He checked it again. "Your name's not on here, sir. You'll have to leave."

Of course. A petty, final power move from Sarah. Liam didn't argue. He didn't raise his voice. He simply pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Hey, Bill," he said into the phone. "Liam here. Yeah, it's been a while. I'm at your club for a wedding, and it seems my name got left off the list. The... uh... Miller-Patterson wedding." He listened for a moment. "Oh, you are? Great. I'll see you in a minute, then."

He hung up and looked at the guards, who were now looking at him with uncertainty. Less than a minute later, the club's owner, a flustered man named Bill, came rushing out.

"Liam! I'm so sorry! There must have been a mistake with the list from the wedding planner. Please, come in, come in! Anything you need, it's on the house."

Liam nodded a polite thanks and walked past the stunned guards, leaving them to deal with their frantic boss. He had asserted his presence without raising his voice.

He found a seat in the back, just as Emily had requested, and watched the proceedings with a detached interest. Soon, the groom, Mark, sauntered over. He had gotten softer over the years, his face puffy from too much rich food and easy living.

"Liam," he said, his voice oozing false friendliness. "Glad you could make it. I was worried you wouldn't be able to afford the gas to get here." He laughed, a short, barking sound.

Liam just looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Mark. You look... prosperous."

Mark's smile tightened. He was used to people being intimidated or angered by his insults. Liam's complete lack of reaction unnerved him. "Yeah, well, some of us know how to run a business. Sarah and I are doing great things. Big things."

"I'm sure you are," Liam said, his eyes drifting away from Mark toward the front row, where Mark's parents were seated.

During the ceremony, just as he'd expected, Emily delivered a tearful speech. She thanked her wonderful mother, Sarah, for her unwavering support. She thanked her "true father," Mark, for showing her what a real man and a successful provider looked like. She never once looked in Liam's direction. The guests murmured sympathetically, shooting pitying glances at the man in the back. They were all playing their parts in the drama Sarah had written for them.

Liam didn't feel hurt. He didn't feel anger. He felt... focused. He watched Mark's parents. They looked nervous, their smiles too tight, their clothes a little too flashy. He listened to their conversations with the people around them. They talked loudly about their son's new ventures, about a huge deal that was about to close, about how their family was finally getting the recognition it deserved.

They were laying it on too thick. It was the talk of people trying to convince themselves as much as others. Liam recognized the scent of desperation. It was far stronger than the overpriced flowers that decorated the hall. He now knew for certain. They needed something from him. And he was beginning to suspect what it was.