**Part 3**
Across the room, Ashley’s heels pounded toward us.
“Undo what?” she demanded.
Daniel stood and faced her.
“Our marriage.”
Ashley gave a small, strained laugh of disbelief.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh, my God. You’re going to ruin our wedding over a cake?”
“No, Ashley.”
His voice was calm, exhausted, and completely certain.
“The cake was never the problem.”
“This is your sister!”
Ashley pointed accusingly at me.
“She manipulated you! She set this whole thing up, and you can’t possibly mean it!”
“She didn’t make this decision for me. You did. With your own words.”
He slowly shook his head.
“I can’t build a life with someone who treats a vulnerable person in my family with that kind of contempt. I just can’t.”
“Too late! We’re legally married!”
“I know. I’ll deal with the legal part afterward. But I’m ending it.”
I waited, hoping Ashley would finally apologize.
Instead, she looked around at the watching guests, the damaged cake, and the photographer lowering his camera.
Then she exploded.
“Do you have any idea how much money I’ve spent making this wedding perfect?”
Daniel studied her silently for a long moment.
“Apparently,” he said, “not enough to pay Grandma.”
Ashley opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again.
Nothing came out.
Finally, she gathered her skirts, spun around, and stormed through the barn doors, her veil fluttering behind her like a flag.
All 150 guests watched in stunned silence.
The wedding cake stood beside my table, tall and ivory, with a large crater where Daniel had driven his spoon into its center.
Grandma studied the damage.
She dabbed her eyes with a napkin before releasing the deep, practical sigh of someone who’d witnessed plenty of kitchen disasters.
“You know, dear,” she said, “there are proper ways to cut a cake.”
