They say blood is thicker than water, but no one tells you what happens when that blood turns toxic. My sister’s wedding should’ve been a celebration—but it became the day everything unraveled. I’m Kylie, 35, a small-town mom. My sister Lily was always the golden child—perfect in our parents’ eyes. She was marrying Adam, the mayor’s son, and I’d poured my energy into helping plan her dream wedding.
The morning of the wedding, I was wrestling with my son Matt’s bow tie when he asked, “Is Dad coming?” Josh, my husband, claimed he had a “client emergency.” I didn’t argue. I was used to his excuses. As Lily walked down the aisle, stunning in her gown, I swallowed my mixed emotions. I was happy for her. At least, I thought I was—until Matt tugged my hand and whispered, “We need to go. Now.”
