The music from the jazz trio felt miles away, muffled by the sudden, heavy silence that settled between Lorraine and me

I walked toward Elliot, cutting through the crowd of laughing colleagues and distant relatives. As soon as I reached his side, I gently touched his arm.

"Elliot, we need to talk. Privately."

He blinked, taking a slow sip of his champagne. "Now, sweetie? We’re supposed to do the mother-son dance in ten minutes. Can’t it wait until we get to the suite?"

"No," I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. "It can't."

I led him toward a quiet corridor near the hotel’s side exit, away from the noise of the ballroom. Once the heavy double doors clicked shut behind us, I turned to face him.

"Your mother just approached me. She demanded that I transfer my salary, bonuses, and investment returns into a family account controlled entirely by her."

Elliot’s reaction wasn't shock. It was exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face, letting out a long sigh. "Maya... she mentioned that to me last week. I thought she was going to bring it up gently after the honeymoon."

My stomach dropped. "You knew?"

"It’s just how my family does things, Maya!" Elliot said defensively, holding his hands up. "My dad did it. My brother’s wife does it. It’s not about controlling you; it’s about protecting the family estate and keeping everything under one umbrella for tax purposes."

"I am not an asset to be merged into Whitaker Holdings," I said, my voice shaking with rising anger. "You let me plan this wedding, write our vows, and talk about our future as equals, knowing your mother expected me to hand over my financial independence the moment the reception started?"

"It's not a big deal!" Elliot snapped, his composure cracking. "You’ll get whatever you need. Mom isn't stingy. She just wants to make sure everything stays in the family."

"And what about my family? What about my autonomy?"

"You're a Whitaker now," Elliot said, looking at me as if I were being entirely unreasonable. "You need to start acting like one."

"I'm not a Whitaker yet," I said softly.

Elliot froze. "What?"

"The civil papers," I reminded him, watching the color drain from his face. "The office error. The missing clerk. We didn't sign the legal registration today. The marriage isn't legally binding until Tuesday."

Elliot stared at me, his champagne glass suddenly trembling in his hand. "Maya, don't do this. Don't cause a scene over paperwork."

"I didn't cause this scene, Elliot. Your mother did, and you let her."

Before he could answer, the corridor door swung open. Lorraine stepped through, her emerald gown catching the dim lighting of the hallway. Her face was dark with suspicion.

"Is there a problem here?" she demanded, looking between the two of us. "The DJ is waiting to announce the toast."

I looked at Elliot, giving him one final chance to stand up, to step between us, to tell his mother that our life together was ours to manage.