Chapter 3
I spent my wedding night sitting in Jasmine's guest bedroom wearing borrowed pajamas.
My ruined reception dress lay inside a plastic garment bag.
The red stains had dried into dark patches.
Every time I looked at it, I remembered Diane's face.
The satisfaction.
The cruelty.
The way Marcus stood beside her.
I finally turned the bag around so I couldn't see it.
Then I called my attorney.
Her name was Renee Thompson.
She had handled Grandma Evelyn's estate and helped me establish separate ownership records for the inherited properties.
Renee answered despite the late hour.
“Nia?”
I swallowed.
“I'm sorry to call so late.”
Her voice changed immediately.
“What happened?”
I told her everything.
The wine.
Marcus's silence.
The ring.
Jasmine's warning.
The conversation about Grandma's building.
Renee listened carefully.
When I finished, she took a breath.
“First, are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I looked toward the window.
“Can Diane take my property because I married Marcus?”
“Marriage alone doesn't automatically transfer ownership of inherited property,” Renee explained. “But we need to review the documents, any agreements you've signed, and whether anyone has attempted transactions without your authorization.”
I closed my eyes.
Relief washed through me.
Then I remembered something.
“Renee?”
“Yes?”
“Marcus asked me to sign documents last week.”
She went quiet.
“What documents?”
“He said they were related to our post-wedding financial planning.”
“Did you sign?”
I hesitated.
“One.”
My stomach tightened.
“I didn't read every page.”
Renee spoke carefully.
“Do you have a copy?”
“I think Marcus does.”
“Then we'll obtain it. Don't assume what it means until we've reviewed it.”
I nodded.
But my hands were trembling.
I remembered sitting at our kitchen counter.
Marcus placed several pages in front of me.
He said his accountant wanted us to organize our financial records before the wedding.
I was exhausted from finalizing seating arrangements.
I asked whether the papers could wait.
He smiled.
“Baby, it's just paperwork.”
I signed one page before a phone call interrupted us.
Then Marcus gathered everything.
At the time, I thought nothing of it.
Now I wondered whether I had made a terrible mistake.
The next morning, Renee invited me to her office.
Jasmine drove.
Caleb insisted on coming too.
I wore jeans and a gray sweater.
My face still felt tender from scrubbing away the wine.
But the greater pain was somewhere I couldn't reach.
Inside my chest.
Renee met us with a folder.
She had already checked the publicly available property records.
Grandma's downtown building remained in my name.
No completed transfer had been recorded.
I exhaled.
“Thank God.”
Renee looked serious.
“That's good news. But we should also investigate any pending applications or documents submitted elsewhere.”
I nodded.
“What about the marriage?”
She folded her hands.
“Your wedding ceremony took place. Whether the marriage was legally completed depends on the license and applicable requirements. We need to verify the records before deciding the appropriate legal process.”
I looked down.
I had walked away before the reception ended.
But walking away from a marriage wasn't the same as ending it legally.
I understood that.
Still, the thought of being connected to Marcus made my stomach twist.
“Can I get divorced?” I asked.
“Yes, if the marriage is legally valid. We'll review your options.”
Caleb leaned forward.
“And Diane?”
Renee looked at him.
“What about her?”
“She assaulted my sister.”
I nodded slowly.
The wine had not caused serious physical injury.
But Diane had intentionally humiliated me.
Several guests had recorded the incident.
Renee explained that we could consider reporting the conduct and preserving the evidence.
I agreed.
I wasn't interested in revenge.
But I was finished pretending that Diane's actions were harmless.
When we left the office, I checked my phone.
Forty-seven missed calls.
Twenty-three messages.
Most from Marcus.
A few from Diane.
One message caught my attention.
It was from an unfamiliar number.
I opened it.
You should check what your husband signed yesterday.
My stomach dropped.
There was no name.
No explanation.
Just that sentence.
I showed Renee before leaving.
She photographed it and asked me not to delete anything.
Then another message arrived.
Ask him about Carter Family Holdings.
I stared at the screen.
Carter was Marcus's last name.
I knew his family owned several businesses.
Diane often bragged about their investments.
But I had never heard of Carter Family Holdings.
I searched through my old emails.
Three months earlier, Marcus had forwarded me a document from his accountant.
The attachment was titled “Family Asset Planning.”
I opened it.
Most of the pages concerned ordinary financial information.
But near the end, I found a reference to a proposed real estate investment entity.
Carter Family Holdings LLC.
I read the paragraph twice.
The proposed investment included a commercial property located on Auburn Avenue.
My grandmother's building.
I felt my stomach turn.
Caleb leaned closer.
“Nia?”
I pointed at the screen.
He read it.
Then stared at me.
“They were planning to use Grandma's property?”
“I don't know how far they got.”
I called Renee immediately.
She asked me to forward the document.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“Nia, do not confront Marcus about this until we understand the paperwork.”
I swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because if someone has attempted an unauthorized transaction, we need to preserve evidence before giving them an opportunity to change their story.”
I nodded.
That afternoon, I drove to Grandma's building.
I needed to see it.
Needed to remember what it represented.
The beauty salon occupied the first storefront.
The bakery was next door.
The bookstore filled the corner unit.
Grandma had always insisted on keeping the rents reasonable.
She believed small businesses deserved a chance.
I stood on the sidewalk staring at the brick walls.
Then Mrs. Henderson, the bakery owner, stepped outside.
“Nia?”
I turned.
She smiled warmly.
“Baby, congratulations on your wedding!”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
She studied my face.
“Are you okay?”
I forced a smile.
“It's been a difficult weekend.”
She nodded gently.
Then she said something unexpected.
“Did your husband send those men?”
I froze.
“What men?”
“The ones who came last Thursday.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they want?”
“They said the building was being sold.”
I stared at her.
Mrs. Henderson continued.
“They measured the storefront and asked about our lease.”
My hands went cold.
“Who were they?”
She reached into her apron.
“I kept their business card.”
She handed it to me.
CARTER FAMILY HOLDINGS.
REAL ESTATE ACQUISITIONS.
I stared at the card.
Then I looked up at Grandma's building.
For the first time, I understood that Diane's hatred might have had very little to do with whether I was good enough for her son.
May you like
She wanted something from me.
And she had been preparing to take it before I ever walked down the aisle.
