On my wedding day, I found the main table replaced — 9 seats taken by my husband’s family while my parents were left standing.

Elena’s throat tightened painfully.

“Where are my parents supposed to sit?” she asked quietly.

Celeste glanced toward them with deliberate contempt.

“Somewhere less noticeable,” she replied. “They look poor.”

Several guests laughed softly behind folded napkins.

Elena turned instinctively toward Victor, waiting for him to stop this.

He stood beside his mother in a perfectly tailored tuxedo, handsome and polished and suddenly unrecognizable.

Victor lowered his voice.

“Don’t create a scene, Elena,” he murmured. “Mom’s right. Optics matter today.”

Her mother blinked rapidly, trying not to cry.

Her father lowered his eyes toward the floor.

And something inside Elena changed.