Chapter 2: The Wedding They Needed Me to Have
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the air conditioner humming above the vanity.
Then I read the message again.
They needed you distracted until after the ceremony.
My mother leaned closer.
"What does it say, sweetheart?""
I showed her.
She stared at the words, then looked toward Marcus.
"What have you done?""
Marcus's expression hardened.
"Nothing. Someone is trying to ruin our wedding.""
"Our wedding?"" I repeated.
He turned to me.
"Nia, whoever sent that message wants you to believe something terrible happened. They're manipulating you.""
"Then explain the photograph.""
"I already told you. It was a business meeting.""
"With your mother paying for the room?""
He hesitated.
I stepped closer.
"Explain the bracelet.""
His eyes flicked toward Vanessa again.
This time, Vanessa noticed.
"Stop looking at me," she snapped.
"I didn't send her anything.""
The words fell into the room like a glass shattering on tile.
I stared at her.
"I didn't say you sent anything.""
Vanessa's face drained of color.
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
"Vanessa, please.""
"No!"" she shouted.
"I'm tired of being dragged into your mess.""
I slowly lowered my phone.
"Your mess?""
She pressed her lips together.
Marcus moved between us.
"Everyone needs to calm down. Vanessa, go downstairs. Nia, give me five minutes alone.""
"No.""
His eyebrows rose.
"What?""
"You don't get to arrange private conversations anymore.""
I turned to Vanessa.
"Tell me what you meant.""
She looked toward the door.
Marcus caught her wrist.
"Don't.""
It was a small movement, almost invisible beneath the sleeve of his tuxedo.
But Vanessa jerked away as if he had burned her.
"Don't touch me," she whispered.
The room went silent.
My mother stared at them.
I stared at them.
Marcus seemed to realize what he'd done. He released Vanessa and adjusted his cuff links.
"I meant that everyone is stressed," he said.
"We're all saying things we don't mean.""
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"You always say that.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
"How long have you two known each other?""
Marcus answered too quickly.
"Years. She's a professional. She worked at events before ours.""
"That's not what I asked.""
Vanessa rubbed the back of her head, then looked at the severed ponytail on the vanity.
Her eyes filled with fury.
"Your bride just cut off half my hair, and you're interrogating me like I'm the criminal.""
"You cut my mother's hair after she told you to stop.""
"She moved!""
"Then why didn't you put the scissors down?""
Vanessa had no answer.
My phone vibrated again.
Look inside the blue folder in the groom's dressing room. Don't let Marcus get there first.
I looked up sharply.
Marcus was watching my face.
"What is it?""
"Nothing.""
For the first time that morning, I lied to him.
I slipped my phone into my purse.
Then I turned to my mother.
"Can you wait here with the wedding coordinator? I'll be right back.""
She caught my hand.
"Nia, don't go anywhere alone with him.""
"I'm not going with him.""
Marcus scoffed.
"You're seriously going to chase anonymous messages around a hotel on your wedding day?""
"I'm seriously going to find out why my fiancé is lying to me.""
I headed for the door.
He followed.
"Nia!""
I kept walking.
The corridor outside the bridal suite smelled of white roses and expensive perfume. A photographer was arranging a display of framed childhood photographs near the elevator.
One of the frames showed Marcus and me at the beach two summers earlier. His arm was around my shoulders, and I was laughing at something he had whispered in my ear.
I remembered believing that I had found the person who would never make me question where I stood.
Now I wondered whether he had been laughing at me all along.
Marcus caught up near the elevators.
"You're not going into my dressing room.""
I turned.
"Why?""
"Because it's private.""
"We're supposed to be getting married in two hours. I thought we were building a life together.""
"We are.""
"Then why are you afraid of a blue folder?""
His expression changed.
There it was.
Recognition.
He knew exactly what I was talking about.
I stepped toward the elevator.
He blocked my path.
"Nia, listen to me carefully. There are things about my family you don't understand.""
"Then explain them.""
"I can't do that here.""
"Why not?""
"Because people are watching.""
I glanced at the photographer.
He immediately pretended to adjust his camera.
I looked back at Marcus.
"You're worried about witnesses?""
"I'm worried about you making a decision you'll regret.""
"I've already made one. I canceled the wedding.""
He grabbed the elevator doors before they could close.
"You can't just walk away from everything we've built.""
I stared at his hand.
"Let go.""
"Nia—"
"Let go of the door, Marcus.""
Something in my voice made him step back.
The elevator closed between us.
When I reached the groom's dressing room, the door stood slightly open.
Inside, two garment bags hung from a rack. A pair of polished shoes sat beside an untouched bottle of water. On the table were cuff links, a watch box, and several folded documents.
I searched the table.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a blue folder partly hidden beneath a black suit jacket.
My pulse quickened.
I opened it.
The first page was a bank statement.
The second was a loan agreement.
The third was a document bearing the name of my company.
I read the heading twice.
*Hale Family Holdings — Proposed Acquisition and Personal Guarantee.*
My company, Everly Designs, was a small interior design business I had built from the ground up. It wasn't enormous, but it was mine. I'd started it with a secondhand laptop and three clients who trusted me enough to pay their deposits before I had a proper office.
Over the years, I'd grown it into a profitable business with employees, contracts, and a reputation I had fought hard to earn.
Marcus had always praised my independence.
He had even told me he admired that I didn't need his money.
Now my company's name appeared on a document I had never seen before.
I turned the page.
My signature was at the bottom.
Or something resembling it.
The letters were similar. The sweeping line beneath my surname was close enough to fool someone who didn't know how carefully I signed legal documents.
But I had never signed this.
A cold pressure settled behind my ribs.
The agreement appeared to authorize the transfer of a controlling interest in Everly Designs to Hale Family Holdings, a company owned by Marcus's father.
Another page listed my personal assets.
My apartment.
My savings.
My business accounts.
Even the small life insurance policy I had taken out years ago, naming my mother as beneficiary.
Every detail was there.
I heard footsteps outside.
I shoved the papers back into the folder and turned toward the door.
Marcus entered.
He didn't look surprised to see me holding it.
That frightened me more than if he had shouted.
"Put it down," he said.
I held the folder against my chest.
"Did you forge my signature?""
He closed the door behind him.
"You're looking at documents you don't understand.""
"Then help me understand.""
"Those are preliminary papers.""
"With my signature on them.""
"They were prepared for discussion.""
"Discussion with whom? You? Your father? Your mother?""
He rubbed his jaw.
"Your business has been struggling.""
I stared at him.
"What?""
"You've had cash-flow problems. You told me yourself that two clients delayed payments.""
"That doesn't give you permission to sell my company.""
"No one's selling anything without your consent.""
"Then why is my signature here?""
He glanced at the folder.
"Your father-in-law was trying to protect you.""
The words were so absurd that I almost laughed.
"My father is dead, Marcus.""
He looked away.
"I meant my father. Once we're married, he'll be your family, too.""
"And that means he gets to own my business?""
"It means the company could benefit from our family's resources.""
I opened the folder to the signature page.
"Did you copy this from my tax documents?""
He didn't answer.
"Marcus, look at me.""
He lifted his eyes.
"Did you use my personal documents to create a fake signature?""
His silence was answer enough.
I stepped back.
"You were going to marry me and take my company.""
"That's not what this is.""
"Then tell me what it is.""
He lowered his voice.
"The company needs capital. My father can provide it. Once we're married, we can make decisions together.""
"Together? You made these documents without telling me.""
"Because you'd have said no before you understood the benefits.""
I felt something inside me go still.
There was no misunderstanding left to clear up.
He hadn't simply lied about a photograph.
He had treated my future as something he could negotiate without me.
I placed the folder on the table.
"Who else knows?""
"No one.""
"Your mother?""
He looked away.
"Marcus.""
"She knows my father wanted to help.""
"And Vanessa?""
His head snapped up.
"Why would Vanessa know anything about this?""
Because the anonymous sender had connected her to the plan. Because she'd known where to cut my mother. Because Marcus had defended her before he had even asked what happened.
I didn't say any of that.
Instead, I took a photograph of every page.
Marcus lunged toward my phone.
"Stop!""
I stepped away.
"Don't touch me.""
"Those are confidential documents.""
"They have my name on them.""
"They're not final.""
"Then you won't mind if a lawyer looks at them.""
His face darkened.
"You have no idea what you're doing.""
"Neither did you, apparently, if you thought I would marry you without noticing.""
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then his expression softened with a speed that made my skin crawl.
"Nia, please. We've been together for four years. I love you.""
I remembered the night he had proposed. Rain tapping against the restaurant windows. His trembling hands. His promise that I would never have to face the world alone.
I remembered the way he had held my mother at my father's funeral when she couldn't stand without support.
I wanted those memories to mean something.
But I could no longer tell whether I was remembering a good man or a performance he had perfected.
"If you loved me," I said, "you would never have put my signature on a document I didn't sign.""
He reached for my hand.
I moved away.
A knock sounded at the door.
Before either of us could respond, it opened.
Patricia stood in the doorway, elegant in a pale gold dress, her emerald bracelet glittering beneath the lights.
Her eyes went straight to the folder.
Then to my phone.
Finally, to Marcus.
"What have you told her?"" she asked.
I turned toward her.
"Not enough, apparently.""
Patricia closed the door behind her.
She didn't look embarrassed.
She looked angry that I had found the evidence before she could hide it.
"Put the folder back where you found it, Nia.""
I held her gaze.
"Did you book the hotel room in that photograph?""
Her lips tightened.
For a moment, I thought she might deny it.
Instead, she said, "You have no idea how much damage you're doing to this family.""
I glanced at Marcus.
Then at the forged signature.
Then at the emerald bracelet.
"Good," I replied.
"Because I think this family has done enough damage to mine.""
Patricia stepped closer.
"Your mother should have stayed out of matters she doesn't understand.""
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
"What did you just say?""
She lifted her chin.
"She has always been a complication. Marcus was trying to make your future easier, and she encouraged you to keep everything separate.""
My hands began to shake.
"You knew what Vanessa was doing to her?""
Patricia didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
I grabbed the folder, tucked my phone into my purse, and headed for the door.
Marcus moved to stop me.
"If you walk out with those papers, there's no going back.""
I paused.
"That's the first honest thing you've said all morning.""
Then I left.
But as I reached the corridor, my phone rang.
The unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered, "Nia, you found the folder. Good. Now listen carefully, because Patricia isn't the only person who signed those papers.""
I pressed the phone tighter to my ear.
"Who are you?""
May you like
The woman took a shaky breath.
"Someone who signed them before you did.""
