But as I looked back at my daughter, picking up a single cracker with trembling fingers so as not to make a scene, I realized something that turned my blood to ice. This wasn’t a catering mistake. This wasn’t an oversight.

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, knocking the wind from my lungs. I looked at Waverly again, and for a split second, she looked my way. Her smile didn’t falter, but her eyes… her eyes flickered toward the kids’ table, and there was no warmth in them. Only a cold, satisfied glint.