What she didn’t know was that I’d hired a second photographer. He captured everything — Matthew holding his boy’s hand, their laughter, and Wendy’s icy stares.After the ceremony, Alex tried to join a photo. Wendy snapped: “He’s not my child! I don’t want him in any photos.” Guests stared.That night, during the toast, I raised my glass: “To Wendy — may she learn that families aren’t edited like photo albums.
