Stewart fired off two messages in the group chat, one right after the other.

【@Danielle, quit spreading lies! Ex-girlfriend? Mel is just my sister!】

【Everybody relax. Lucy and I got into a little spat, that's all. I'll go smooth things over and bring her back to finish the paperwork.】

The sheer nerve of him turned my stomach.

Right then, an unknown number rang through.

It was the owner of the renovation company we'd booked.

He asked, careful and polite, "Miss Pruitt? About the auspicious start date tomorrow—do you still want us to go ahead as planned and swing the first hammer at the new place?"

My father took the phone straight out of my hand, answered without hesitating, and put it on speaker.

"This is Lucy's father. We're not buying the house."

The line went dead.

My mother couldn't hold herself together anymore. She turned her face away and cried until she could hardly breathe.

Something in me knotted tight.

Stewart called again. I hung up on him.

Then came voice message after voice message, more than a dozen in a row.

I tapped the last one.

"Lucy Pruitt! Have you had enough! Quit making a scene in the middle of the street! I'm counting to three. Grab that passbook and get back in here to transfer the residency, now!"

I lifted the phone to my mouth and answered, cold and flat.

"Stewart, get ready to take a call from my lawyer. We're going to talk about calling off the engagement, and about damages."

The group chat went dead silent.

A few seconds later, Melinda popped up with a slick little message.

【Lucy, please don't be upset, this is all my fault. How about this—just treat the down payment as a loan from me to you. I'll write you an IOU and pay you back every month from now on…】

My mother stood up and took my hand.

"Lucy. Let's go home."

Her eyes held nothing now but the finality of a heart that had given up.

We walked to the curb and flagged down a cab.

The cab carried us home.

As we passed the upscale complex that was supposed to be our wedding home, I saw the electronic screen at the entrance still scrolling the red banner the agent had put up early,

"A Warm Welcome to Mr. Dickerson and Miss Pruitt to Their New Home."

Right then, that streak of red looked unbearably bleak, and unbearably absurd.

Once we got home, the phone started buzzing again.

It was a text from the bank's large-transfer system.

【Dear customer, your scheduled large-transfer window will close in 22 minutes. Please complete authorization as soon as possible.】

Time was pushing me toward the final cut.

At the top of the screen, text messages kept popping up.

It was the manager of the wedding venue, spamming my name in the planning group chat.

【Miss Pruitt, are you there? When will you settle the balance for tonight's reception? If we don't get confirmation soon, we'll have to cancel the venue!】

【Miss Pruitt? Reply the moment you see this!】

The manager of the bridal shop sent a private message too.

【Miss Pruitt, that custom gown of yours—does it still need the final alterations? It seems like things on your end might…】

She didn't finish, but her meaning was plain enough.

Just then, Danielle sent a candid photo to our private group chat.

In it, Stewart and Melinda were sitting side by side in the VIP lounge at the county records office.

He had one leg crossed over the other, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, the picture of ease.

Melinda leaned against him, laughing so hard she was practically shaking.

Where was any trace of the urgency, the house-on-fire panic he kept talking about?

Stewart called again.

I hit answer, and put it on speaker.

The moment it connected, I heard Melinda's syrupy voice come through from his end.

"Stew, this coffee's so bitter. Put some sugar in it for me, would you?"

On the other end of the line, Stewart's voice went soft and coaxing.

"Okay, okay, just hold on a second. Let me finish this with Lucy first."

Then his tone flipped a full one-eighty.

"Lucy Pruitt, are you done throwing your little tantrum? Transfer the money to the account already, don't waste everyone's time."

I asked, cold. "Are you still with Melinda right now?"

Stewart admitted it without a shred of shame. "Yeah, Mel's right here beside me. So what?"

"So what?" I laughed, furious.

"She's sitting in a VIP lounge sipping coffee, and you're over here acting like your hair's on fire?"

"She just crashed into low blood sugar because we didn't get the house! I'm taking care of a sick person here!"

His excuse was clumsy and ridiculous. "Can you not be so petty about this?"

"I'm petty?" The shout finally tore out of me. "Stewart! You are out of your mind!"

"Lucy, keep your voice down!" He seemed afraid the people around him would hear.

"I'm coming over right now. You get the house sorted, and I'll take you to buy any designer bag you want, call it an apology, okay?"

I thought about the down payment, how I wouldn't even spring for a twenty-dollar takeout order, how I ate the lunch I packed every single day.

And he, so lightly, dangled a handbag at me, like it could cancel out millions in betrayal and lies.

Ding.

Another text from the bank.

The transfer window closes in 15 minutes. Please complete your facial-recognition authorization immediately.

Stewart clearly heard the alert tone through the phone.

His voice turned frantic in an instant.

"You hear that! Lucy! Authorize it now! You want every relative and friend we have laughing at our family?"

I said into the phone, mocking.

"Stewart, you only care that you'll look like a fool for not getting the house. You don't care at all how monstrous you look, playing your fiancée's whole family for idiots?"

"Lucy, don't say that, Stew only did it for me—"

Melinda's fake, wounded little voice slipped back in.

Before she could finish, Stewart cut her off, snarling.

"Lucy, let me tell you something! Over a little bit of money, you have to nickel and dime, wreck two families' relationship, are you sick in the head?"

The bank app's pop-up jumped onto the screen, pushing me to complete the final step.

I hung up, tuning out Stewart's insane roaring on the line completely.

A few minutes later my front door slammed open.

Stewart charged across the room and lunged for my phone.

"How long are you going to drag this out? Now! Right now! Transfer the money! Facial recognition!"

He jabbed a finger at the watch on his wrist, face twisted, screaming at me.

"The bank's about to close! If you don't transfer the money, someone else is going to snatch this school-district spot! Can you carry that responsibility?"

I took a step back and looked at him, cold.

Melinda cowered behind him like a startled little rabbit, all fragile and helpless.

"Mr. and Mrs. Pruitt!" Seeing I wouldn't budge, Stewart wheeled around to pressure my parents.

"You two talk some sense into Lucy! Don't let her wreck the peace between our families over a little money! How are we supposed to be in-laws after this!"

He was treating my parents like an ATM he could work however he pleased.

"A little money?" I finally spoke, cold.

"Stewart, in your eyes, my parents' life savings are just a little money, just a number, is that it?"

"I said I'd pay it back!" He cut me off, impatient, still pushing. "Quit stalling! Just do the recognition!"

Mom's eyes brimmed with tears, and her hand went for the other bank card in her pocket, ready to spend her own retirement savings just to make the trouble go away.

I clamped down hard on her wrist.

We couldn't back down.

The moment we gave in today, these two leeches would drain my parents dry for the rest of their lives.

"Get out!"

Dad stepped in front of us, planting himself between Stewart and the two of us.

He jabbed a finger at Stewart's face.

"This wedding's off! Get the hell out of here!"

Right then, a few cars pulled up outside our door.

Stewart's relatives.

They'd been planning to head straight to the new place to tour it and celebrate. It never crossed their minds that something had gone wrong with the purchase.

"What's going on here?"

"Weren't they buying a house? Why's everyone shouting?"

"Lucy, why do you look so awful?"

A text alert chimed. A private message from the agent.

【Miss Pruitt, have you and Mr. Dickerson worked things out? The sellers say not only will they keep the twenty-thousand-dollar deposit, you'll also owe a penalty fee of ten percent of the total price.】

Mom had clearly seen it too.

"Lucy, stop this, please. Just send the money over…"

Seeing his chance, Stewart hurried over at once, all fake generosity.

"Look at the state you've got your mother into. Don't drag your parents out onto the street to embarrass themselves like this!"

I thought about how Dad, trying to save a little more, wouldn't even run the air conditioning in summer.

How Mom, to pinch pennies, hadn't bought herself a single new outfit in three years.

"Stewart, I'm asking you one last time." My voice was frighteningly calm.

"Right now, this second, put the name on the deed back. There's still time."

A flicker of hesitation crossed Stewart's face. Then he glanced at Melinda behind him, standing there looking so pitiful.

His answer came without a shred of doubt:

"No way! Lucy, I can't let Mel suffer. For the sake of the bigger picture, just swallow this one, all right?"

I drew a deep breath and stopped sparring with Stewart entirely.

I didn't look at him again.

I took out my phone, and in front of every one of his relatives, I tapped the option.

【Cancel the home-purchase escrow account】.

The next second, a crisp system chime came from the phone.

【Operation successful.】

The expression on Stewart's face froze solid.