My family ignored my wedding, saying it “wasn’t important.” They had no idea my billionaire in-laws had the whole town talking—and the next morning, one cream envelope on their doorstep turned that one sentence into the most expensive opinion they’d ever had. My family skipped my wedding because “it wasn’t important.” Their words, not mine. A small Denver ceremony in a little white church, a groom with sawdust on his boots, a reception booked at the community hall—apparently that didn’t fit the