Chapter 8 - The Weight of a Name
Thursday afternoon brought an unexpected visitor to Wildflower House.
I was walking the perimeter of the lower garden, checking the blooming hydrangeas that would line the ceremony aisle for our next event, when I heard footsteps crunching on the gravel drive. I turned to see Tyler walking alone toward the gardens.
He didn't look like the golden boy who had screamed at the doors a week ago. His suit was rumpled, his hair was uncombed, and his shoulders were hunched as if he were carrying an invisible weight. He stopped a few feet away from me, keeping his hands stuffed deep into his coat pockets.
"You shouldn't be here, Tyler," I said, my voice neutral.
"Dad’s going to lose the municipal board seat," Tyler said quietly, staring down at the gravel path. "He spent the last three days screaming at his partners because someone in the county clerk's office flagged irregularities in their 2020 development filings. He thinks the town is turning on him."
"The town isn't turning on him," I replied, crossing my arms. "He built a foundation out of shortcuts and assumed nobody would ever check the floorboards."
Tyler looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with a bitter, exhausted realization. "Did you know? Back in 2020 when you bought this place... did you know he used your tax ID?"
"No," I said honestly. "I trusted him. Just like you trusted him when he told you the wedding was going to be paid for, right up until he made you the scapegoat for his financial control issues."
Tyler flinched as if I had struck him. He took a slow step closer, his voice dropping to a raw, shaking whisper. "Haley left on Tuesday. She packed her bags and went back to her parents in Westchester. She said she didn't sign up to be part of a sinking family dynasty."
I watched him, feeling a strange mixture of pity and distant detachment. For years, Tyler had been the sun around which my parents' universe revolved. Every accomplishment of mine was minimized to keep him shining brighter. Now, standing here in the cold June air, he looked like a person who had just discovered the planet he was standing on was made of sand.
"I'm sorry about Haley," I said softly. "Truly. But Tyler, you're a grown man. You've had a front-row seat to how Dad operates your entire life. You went along with it because it was easier than standing on your own two feet."
"And what am I supposed to do now?" Tyler asked, his voice cracking with genuine panic. "Dad has cut me off from the firm accounts because he blames me for letting you get a copy of the contract. I have no job, no wedding, and no family left."
"You have a degree, Tyler," I said, holding his gaze. "And you have an opportunity to stop living inside a script written by someone else. That’s more than most people get."
May you like
Tyler stared at me for a long, silent moment, searching my face for anger or mockery and finding neither. Then, without another word, he turned around and walked slowly back down the gravel path toward his car.
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