PART3: Before getting married, my mom forced me to put my two-million-dollar apartment in her name. She told me: “Don’t say anything to Jason or his family.” I thought she was crazy. Until my mother-in-law took the microphone in front of 200 guests and announced that my place on the Upper East Side would be her retirement home.

My father spoke with Mr. Henderson and the police. My mother spoke with the lawyer. Natalie started organizing my things without me asking. Someone turned off the music completely. The cake remained intact on a table—massive, white, ridiculously perfect.
I walked over to it. The bride and groom toppers were smiling on top of three layers of fondant. Her with a veil. Him in a suit. Both made of sugar. I took the groom figure and pushed it into the cake until it disappeared.
Natalie let out a laugh through her tears. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be laughing.”
“I should.”
And for the first time that night, I breathed. Not perfectly, but I breathed. Laura approached with the folder against her chest.|
“Sophia, you don’t have to talk to me now.”
“I want to.”
We sat at an empty table, far from the onlookers. I still had the dress on. She looked at me with a cautious sadness.
“How did you survive?” I asked her.