The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 07

The Fortune Teller Said I Was Bad Luck, I Brought Them Worse Chapter 07

By 10:30, more and more guests had arrived.

The hotel entrance buzzed with activity, familiar and unfamiliar faces appearing one after another—my aunt, second uncle, cousins, younger relatives, some of Mom and Dad’s friends, Gavin’s colleagues, and Lily’s family.

I saw my aunt asking Mom something. Mom shook her head and pointed at her phone. Aunt frowned, muttered a few words, patted Mom on the shoulder, and walked into the hotel.

Then I noticed Lily’s parents, an unassuming middle-aged couple.

Her mother wore a dark red suit, hair curled, smile polite but eyes sharp, scanning everything.

She tugged at a wedding planner, asking questions. The planner shook her head, and she moved on to someone else.

Were they asking about me? Or wondering why their sister-in-law hadn’t come?

I leaned back in my seat, closing my eyes. Memories surfaced.

Gavin at five, me at eight. Mom and Dad working late, I cooked instant noodles for him, forgot to add enough water, and they turned to mush.

He took a bite, spat it out, and cried. Terrified, I emptied my saved allowance and ran with him to the corner store for snacks.

It rained on the way home. I used my jacket to cover him, soaking myself.

Gavin at twelve, me at fifteen. He broke his arm playing soccer, afraid to tell our parents because he had skipped class.

I took him to the hospital, paid the medical bill with my savings. At home, when Mom and Dad asked, I claimed he had fallen while I was biking with him.

Dad slapped me for being careless. I didn’t explain.

Gavin at eighteen, me at twenty-one. He got into college; our parents threw a celebration. Relatives praised him, predicted success.

Drunk, he slung his arm over my shoulder, “Isabella, when I make money, I’ll buy you a big house, lots of pretty clothes.”

I said, “Alright, I was waiting.”

Gavin at twenty-two, me at twenty-five. He brought Lily home, said he wanted to marry.

Mom and Dad said, “No house, no marriage.”

That night, he sat on my bedroom floor, head down, silent.

I asked, “Do you love her?” He nodded. I said, “Then I’ll help you.”

I handed him my bank card, containing $28,000 I’d saved in three years. “Pay the down payment. Pay off the mortgage slowly later.”

He cried. “Isabella, I’ll pay you back.”

“No need. Just be happy.”

Are you truly happy, Gavin?

I opened my eyes. The crowd outside the hotel had grown.

The wedding should be starting soon; guests were streaming in.
Gavin and Lily were still at the entrance, but the crowd thinned.

Mom still scanned the area; Dad was on the phone, face stern.

Then Gavin suddenly turned and strode into the hotel. Lily paused, then followed.

Mom and Dad exchanged glances and went in after them.

What was happening? I sat up, watching the hotel entrance.

Minutes later, a man in a suit rushed out, the hotel’s lobby manager.
He paced nervously, phone in hand, speaking urgently.

A few minutes after that, the wedding planner appeared, a woman in her forties, wearing a neat suit. She spoke with the manager, both frowned.

Then came the florist, the dessert team, the photographers. They clustered together, voices rising. Even across the street, I could see their agitated hand gestures.

Then Gavin burst out. Face ashen, phone clutched, practically shouting, “Where’s my sister? Who saw her?!”

The crowd went quiet for a moment.

Mom ran up and grabbed his arm. “Gavin, calm down!”

“How can I calm down!” Gavin shook her off, voice hoarse. “The hotel says the balance isn’t paid!”

“The wedding planner says the balance isn’t paid! Everything, everything isn’t paid! They say my sister told them to ask me!”

“Where am I supposed to get that kind of money? Huh?”

His final shout left him trembling all over.

Across the street, I gripped the steering wheel.

The hotel entrance erupted into chaos. Lily’s mother shouted, voice high-pitched, “What’s going on? What balance isn’t paid?”

The wedding planner stepped forward, folder in hand, “Mr. Harlow, Ms. Morgan informed us this morning that she wouldn’t be at the wedding. The remaining balance is to be settled by you. Here’s the contract, total $18,000.”

“What am I supposed to do with this?!” Gavin shoved the folder aside; papers scattered. “I don’t have the money! Where am I supposed to get it?”

“But the contract…”

“The contract was signed by my sister! Go ask her!”

“But Ms. Morgan clearly stated…”

“I don’t care! Go ask her!”

The scene descended into total disorder. Guests hadn’t fully entered yet, many lingered at the entrance, whispering.

Lily’s mother’s face flushed red as she demanded answers; her father tried to hold her back. Mom was crying; Dad argued with the hotel manager, who only shook his head.

Then I saw Lily. She stood at the hotel entrance, gown dragging on the ground, veil blown by the wind.

She looked at Gavin, at the shouting parents, at the curious onlookers. Her expression shifted from confusion to shock, then anger.

“Gavin!” she screamed.

Everyone went silent, staring at her.

Lily stepped forward, her skirt sweeping over the contract papers. “Explain. What’s going on?”

“I…” Gavin opened his mouth but couldn’t speak.

“Where’s your sister? The one who paid for everything?!” Lily’s voice trembled. “This morning you said she had something to do and would come later. Where is she now? Where’s the money?”

“Lily, let me explain…”

“Explain what? Explain your family’s fraud? Explain that you don’t have money but want to put on a show? Explain that I’m standing here like a fool, being laughed at by everyone?!”

Tears streamed down her face, washing away her makeup. “Gavin, I’m telling you, this wedding isn’t happening today!”

She spun on her heel and walked inside.

“Lily!” Gavin chased her.

“Lily!” Lily’s mother followed.

The scene was completely out of control.