Denise, panicked, tried to explain. “It’s not what it looks like. Please, Liam, not here.”

But Liam’s hurt was raw. “In our home, Denise? How long?”

“Not long,” she whispered. “You weren’t supposed to know.”

He walked out. Denise chased after him, her mother close behind.

Later, I found Liam at the hotel bar, drained and sipping champagne.

“I found the video while pulling clips from her laptop,” he said. “It wasn’t even hidden.”

“Do you think I was wrong to show everyone?” he asked.

I paused. “Maybe it could’ve been private. But no—you weren’t wrong.”

Liam nodded, downing his drink. “I’m not checking on her. I don’t care.”

I didn’t try to convince him otherwise. Cheating had always been his red line. He glanced at me.

“Come on,” he said, standing. “Let’s go eat some wedding cake.”

And just like that, I followed my brother into the reception—because after all the chaos, what he needed most was someone on his side.