Chapter 1

Caspar Whitney and I dated for ten years before we finally walked toward the altar.

On my wedding day, my brother showed up with a crew and blocked me inside the wedding car.

"You're not getting out of this car."

Caspar passed cigarettes around, keeping a smile on his face the whole time.

"We'll do everything by the book, I promise. After the wedding I'll make sure your sister has a good life."

My brother let out a cold little laugh.

"Fine, you can marry her. But there's one more condition."

"On top of the eighty-eight hundred you already gave, you add thirty grand."

It wasn't just Caspar who froze. So did I, sitting in the car.

The eighty-eight hundred had already cleaned out Caspar's family. Forget thirty thousand—they couldn't scrape together three.

Someone went and got my parents, hoping they could talk Brendan down.

Brendan pulled out a knife and laid the blade across his own throat.

"I don't care if God himself shows up. That money gets paid!"

1

"What kind of brother does this? He's just making trouble for his own sister. How's she supposed to hold her head up after the wedding?"

"If you ask me, they're not marrying their daughter off. They're selling her!"

The muttering reached my ears, and the blame was drifting toward my mom and dad.

Still in my white wedding dress, I shoved the door open, got out, and slapped Brendan Floyd across the face.

"This is my wedding day. Can you please stop causing a scene?"

Brendan is four years younger than me.

When he was still learning to talk, I was already pitching in with the housework.

Whenever Mom and Dad were busy, feeding him, cleaning him, all of it fell to me.

In all our years growing up, I had never once hit him.

"Priscilla Floyd, don't be angry. Let me talk to him. There has to be some misunderstanding here."

Caspar quickly stepped between us, soothing everyone, lighting a cigarette for Brendan and for my father.

"Sir, Brendan, our two families know each other inside and out. Priscilla and I grew up together."

"By rights, whatever number you name for the dowry, I should hand it over with both hands. But this eighty-eight hundred is everything I have."

Caspar wasn't exaggerating. Around here, most people pay three or four thousand for a dowry.

When he came to my house to ask for my hand, he knelt right down in front of my parents and pulled out a savings book.

"This is every cent I have, a hundred and ten thousand. Eighty-eight hundred for the dowry, the rest for the wedding banquet."

Back then my parents barely hesitated before saying yes.

I heard Brendan threw a fit when he got home, but I chalked it up to him not wanting to let me go. I didn't think anything more of it.

"This is your sister's wedding. If you don't want to be here, then get the hell home."

I could tell my father was holding himself back hard.

"You say one more thing you've got no business saying, and I'll knock you flat."

My mother jumped in too, frantic, trying to reason with him.

"What's gotten into you? Whatever it is, we'll talk about it at home."

Brendan took a drag, let the smoke out slowly, his whole face full of swagger.

"That's not how it works. What do you mean the eighty-eight hundred is everything he has?"

"Don't you two have two houses? Just sell one, problem solved."

The second that left his mouth, the relatives and friends started laying into him.

"Brendan, how can you be this foolish?"

"He's already giving a dowry that big. Quit making a nuisance of yourself and go find a seat inside."

"That's right, Brendan. You've been such a sensible kid all your life. How can you throw all decency out the window today?"

Caspar forced a smile and threw an arm hard around Brendan's shoulders, steering him off to the side.

"Did you get yourself into some kind of trouble out there? Do you need money? If that's it, once the wedding's over, I'll sell the house if it comes to that."

Brendan pushed his hand off and spelled it out, deliberate, every word serious.

"When I say now, I mean now. Either you bring me the house deed and put me down as a security guard—"

"Or you can forget getting married today!"

When I slapped Brendan earlier, part of me had worried my own head wasn't clear.

But looking at him now, that slap was far too light.