The Setup Started Long Before the Ceremony
My name is Rebecca Martin. I live in the Boston suburbs with my daughter, Emma.
Emma is 15—quiet, observant, and the kind of kid who apologizes when someone else bumps into her.
My younger sister, Jessica, was getting married at a luxury hotel. Everything about it was “perfect.”
Perfect venue. Perfect guest list. Perfect fiancé: Ryan Mitchell, real estate, confident smile, always performing.
And then there was my mother, Linda.
She adored Jessica in a way she never even tried to hide.
When Jessica wanted something, it appeared. When I needed something, I was told to “manage.”
I thought I’d outgrown the sting of it.
I was wrong.
A week before the wedding, Jessica told me about her dress.
