Chapter 4
The next morning, I woke in an empty hotel room.
My wedding gown hung beside the window.
The diamond necklace lay on the dresser.
And my engagement ring sat in a small velvet box.
Marcus had returned it to me after the ceremony.
He hadn't demanded it back.
He simply said, "I don't want either of us making permanent decisions while we're hurting."
Then he left.
I stared at the ring for a long time.
Six months earlier, I had cried with happiness when he proposed.
Now I didn't know whether we'd ever marry.
My phone rang.
It was Rebecca Collins, the attorney Marcus had recommended.
I answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Nia, I reviewed the documents you sent."
My heart tightened.
"And?"
"There are several suspicious transactions."
I sat upright.
"What kind?"
"Payments from the wedding account to a company called Luxe Event Services."
I frowned.
"That's our event planner."
Rebecca paused.
"Is Tasha connected to the company?"
I stared at the wall.
"I don't think so."
"According to the business registration, she's listed as a managing member."
My stomach dropped.
"What?"
Rebecca continued.
"The company received more than twenty-six thousand dollars in payments connected to your wedding."
I closed my eyes.
"That can't be right."
"Some payments may reflect legitimate services. But we need receipts, contracts, and bank records."
I swallowed.
"Tasha told me she was helping because we're family."
Rebecca remained calm.
"That may be true in part. But the financial arrangements need careful review."
I remembered every expensive suggestion.
The custom invitations.
The imported flowers.
The photographer upgrade.
Tasha had insisted on using her preferred vendors.
She said she knew how to get discounts.
I had trusted her.
Worse, I had pushed Evelyn to trust her too.
"Rebecca," I whispered, "what happens to Evelyn?"
"We've contacted the lender to dispute the unauthorized application. We'll preserve the evidence and assess the next steps."
I felt tears rising.
"Can they force her to pay?"
"That depends on the facts and legal process. But an unauthorized signature is a serious issue, and we're taking steps to protect her."
I nodded.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
"What happens to the money she gave me?"
Rebecca was silent for a moment.
"Did she characterize it as a gift?"
"Yes."
"Then recovering it from vendors may be difficult. But you can make decisions about how to repay her."
I looked toward my wedding gown.
Eight thousand dollars.
The necklace.
Four thousand.
The flowers.
Thousands more.
I had spent nearly everything Evelyn gave me.
And I had done it without understanding what that money meant to her.
After the call, I opened my banking application.
My savings balance was just under twelve thousand dollars.
Not enough.
I could return the dress if the boutique allowed it.
Sell the necklace.
Cancel the honeymoon.
But even if I recovered every possible dollar, I would still owe Evelyn tens of thousands.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
Then I called the bridal boutique.
The manager explained that the gown couldn't be returned after alterations.
I thanked her.
Then I contacted a reputable resale service.
They estimated I could recover less than half its original price.
I accepted.
Next, I called the jeweler.
The necklace could be resold.
But not for what I'd paid.
Again, I accepted.
Then I canceled the honeymoon.
The travel company refunded part of the cost.
I watched the numbers slowly add up.
It wasn't enough.
Not even close.
But it was a beginning.
At noon, I drove to Evelyn's rented room.
She lived in a boarding house on the outskirts of Atlanta.
I had never visited before.
That realization made me ashamed.
She had moved there three months earlier.
I had asked whether she liked it.
She said it was comfortable.
I never asked to see it.
Now I stood outside a narrow brick building with peeling paint.
The hallway smelled of old carpet and cleaning supplies.
Evelyn opened the door.
Her face brightened when she saw me.
"Nia!"
I nearly cried.
She stepped aside.
"Come in, sweetheart."
The room was barely large enough for a bed, a dresser, and a small table.
One window overlooked a parking lot.
A tiny electric kettle sat beside the sink.
I noticed a stack of neatly folded towels.
Two pairs of shoes.
A few framed photographs.
That was all.
My throat tightened.
"Where's your furniture?"
Evelyn smiled sadly.
"I sold most of it."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"The room was furnished."
I looked around.
A worn mattress.
A chipped dresser.
A plastic chair.
I could barely breathe.
Evelyn noticed my expression.
"Oh, honey. It's only temporary."
I sat on the edge of the bed.
"How long have you been here?"
"Three months."
"Are you comfortable?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Mostly."
I looked toward the window.
"Is it safe?"
Her smile faded.
"Nia, what is this about?"
I opened my handbag.
Inside was a folder containing receipts, cancellation confirmations, and a list of items I planned to sell.
I handed it to her.
"What's this?" she asked.
"Everything I can return or sell."
She looked confused.
I continued.
"The dress. The necklace. The honeymoon refund. Some decorations."
Her eyes widened.
"Nia—"
"I'm giving the money back."
She shook her head.
"No, sweetheart."
I reached for her hand.
"Please."
She stared at me.
"I gave that money because I wanted you to be happy."
Tears filled my eyes.
"But you gave up your home."
She looked down.
"I wanted you to have something beautiful."
I began crying.
"Evelyn, you were the most beautiful thing at my wedding."
Her face crumpled.
I continued.
"And I treated you like you didn't belong."
She covered her mouth.
I knelt in front of her.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head.
"I know."
"No, please listen."
I took a breath.
"I spent years being embarrassed by where we came from."
My voice trembled.
"I hated the secondhand clothes. The little apartment. The way other girls had expensive birthday parties."
Evelyn's eyes filled.
"I know, baby."
I continued.
"I thought if I looked rich enough, people would forget I grew up poor."
I wiped my cheeks.
"But you were never something to be ashamed of."
Evelyn began sobbing.
I held her hands.
"You worked two jobs. You raised me. You gave me everything you had."
My voice broke.
"And I made you feel small."
She pulled me into her arms.
We cried together.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Evelyn whispered, "I didn't need a fancy wedding, Nia."
I closed my eyes.
"I know."
"I just wanted to see you happy."
I hugged her tighter.
"I know."
When I finally stood, she touched my cheek.
"Does Marcus know you're here?"
I nodded.
"He knows I wanted to apologize."
She smiled sadly.
"He's a good man."
I looked away.
"I may have lost him."
Evelyn took my hand.
"Then let him decide what he needs."
I nodded.
She was right.
For once, I couldn't demand the ending I wanted.
I had to accept what my actions had caused.
Then Evelyn hesitated.
"Nia, there's something I need to tell you."
I looked up.
"What?"
She opened the dresser drawer.
Inside was an old envelope.
She handed it to me.
My father's handwriting appeared across the front.
I stopped breathing.
"Dad?"
Evelyn nodded.
"He left this for you."
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
She looked ashamed.
"Because I was afraid you'd think I was trying to replace your mother."
My heart tightened.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter dated shortly before my father's death.
The first line made my knees weaken.
"My little Nia, if I can't be there when you marry, promise me you'll remember who stayed."
I began crying.
Then I read the next sentence.
"Evelyn may not have given birth to you, but she chose to love you every day."
I looked at my stepmother.
May you like
She was crying too.
And for the first time, I understood how much of my father's love had continued living through her.
