He imagined his mother watching her with that familiar look—one that silently said, I always knew you weren’t enough for my son.

He imagined relatives noticing. Comparing. Judging.

And finally… agreeing with him.

In his mind, the entire night had already been scripted.

He would stand near the entrance in a tailored suit, his watch catching just enough light to signal success. He would laugh with important people. He would let Grace see him first—let her feel the distance, the difference, the life that had supposedly improved without her.

Maybe he would mention a promotion he hadn’t earned.

Maybe he would let people assume he was rising through the executive ranks instead of just being another regional sales employee who knew how to sound important.

The truth no longer suited him.

So he replaced it.