3 days before my wedding, Dad called: “I’m not wal…

Preston unlocked the Porsche with a loud double chirp. “Drive safe, you two,” he called, his tone dripping with condescension. “Hope the old truck starts in this cold.”

Elias walked past the driver’s side of the Porsche.

He paused, running one finger lightly along the pristine fender. Then he looked up at Preston. “Nice ride, Preston,” Elias said quietly.

“Enterprise commercial leasing out of Seattle, right? Tier Four corporate package. They do great maintenance on these fleet vehicles.”

Preston froze.

The smug smile vanished from his face, replaced by a flash of panic. His hand stalled on the door handle. “It is a business expense,” Preston snapped, his voice defensive and thin.

“Smart capital allocation.”

“Very smart,” Elias agreed, offering a polite nod. “Have a good night.”

We climbed into the Bronco. Elias started the engine, and it roared to life without a single sputter.

As we pulled out of the lot, I watched Preston in the rearview mirror. He was still standing beside the Porsche, staring after us, visibly unsettled by the dirt-poor guide who had casually identified the commercial paper holding his luxury illusion together. I leaned my head against the cold passenger window, watching the streetlights blur past.