My sister laughed at me for marrying a “simple farmer” while her husband was a so-called finance genius. When their investments collapsed, my parents told me to sell my land to save them. But when my husband revealed who really owned the property, their faces went pale.

To the happy couple, who always did love playing in the mud!”

The champagne flutes clinked, a delicate, crystalline sound that was immediately drowned out by a wave of laughter. My sister Tamara’s voice, dripping with that special brand of sweetness that could cut glass, echoed across the reception hall. The laughter hit me like a physical slap. I felt my cheeks burn as two hundred pairs of eyes turned to fixate on me and Payton. My name is Bethany, and that was supposed to be the happiest day of my life.

I should have known Tamara wouldn’t let it pass without reminding everyone of my place in the family hierarchy. There she was, a radiant vision in her designer bridesmaid dress, holding court at the head table. And there I was, in our grandmother’s altered wedding gown, trying to keep a serene smile plastered on my face while my world tilted.