Chapter 7
The first thing I noticed was the broken picture frame.
It lay beside our front door, surrounded by pieces of glass.
Inside the frame had been a photograph of Nick and me at seventeen.
We were standing outside my mother's bakery.
Nick had his arm around my shoulders.
I was laughing.
Now the glass was shattered.
The photograph had been torn in half.
I stood on the sidewalk while an officer examined our front door.
Nick kept one arm around me.
Our neighbor, Mrs. Collins, waited nearby.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," she said.
I shook my head.
"Did you see who did it?"
"A dark car stopped outside just after noon."
"Who was driving?"
"I couldn't see."
Her eyes filled with worry.
"But I heard someone shouting before the car left."
"What did they say?"
Mrs. Collins hesitated.
"Something about learning to respect your family."
Nick's body went rigid.
I felt sick.
The officers wouldn't let us enter until they had finished their initial examination.
When we finally stepped inside, I wanted to cry.
Our living room had been torn apart.
Cushions lay on the floor.
Drawers were open.
The framed photograph from our engagement had been knocked off the mantel.
But the worst thing was waiting in our bedroom.
My wedding dress.
I had placed it in a garment bag before leaving for Oregon.
Now it lay across our bed.
Someone had cut through the fabric.
Long, deliberate slashes ran across the skirt.
I couldn't move.
Nick stared at it.
Then he whispered, "No."
I stepped forward.
The lace was ruined.
The dress my mother had saved for.
The dress I'd worn while promising Nick my whole life.
Destroyed.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
For several moments, no sound came out.
Then I started crying.
Nick knelt in front of me.
"Emily."
I shook my head.
"Why won't she leave us alone?"
He held my hands.
"I don't know."
"Was cutting my hair not enough?"
His eyes filled.
"I'm so sorry."
I looked at him.
"This isn't your fault."
He swallowed.
"It's my mother."
"We don't know who did this."
But we both knew who had the clearest reason to frighten us.
The police photographed everything.
They collected evidence and asked about possible suspects.
I told them about Martha.
I told them about the wedding.
I showed them the threatening messages Nick had received.
And I described our neighbor's account.
They listened carefully.
But they also explained that suspicion wasn't proof.
I understood.
After everything Grace had endured, I wanted the truth established properly.
I didn't want to become someone who treated accusations as facts.
That evening, Nick and I stayed with my mother.
She had prepared the little guest room where I used to sleep when I visited from college.
My childhood quilt still covered the bed.
I sat on it, holding the torn wedding photograph.
Nick stood in the doorway.
"Daniel called."
I looked up.
"What did he say?"
"Patricia's documents are being reviewed. There are several records that appear to support Grace's claims."
"That's good."
He nodded.
"And the company board has postponed Mom's emergency meeting."
"Why?"
"Because two directors want an independent investigation."
I felt a small spark of hope.
"Do they believe Grace?"
"They believe there are enough questions to investigate."
Nick sat beside me.
Then he took a deep breath.
"There's something else."
I looked at him.
"Mom fired me."
My heart sank.
"What?"
"She sent the notice an hour ago."
I grabbed his hand.
"Nick."
He tried to smile.
"It's okay."
"No, it isn't."
He looked down.
"Maybe not."
I moved closer.
"You gave that company everything."
"I know."
"You worked weekends. Holidays. You helped keep it alive during the worst years."
"I know, Emily."
His voice broke.
I wrapped my arms around him.
He buried his face against my shoulder.
For the first time since our wedding, he cried about his own loss.
Not his mother's cruelty toward me.
Not Grace's stolen inheritance.
But the realization that his mother would sacrifice her relationship with him rather than give up control.
I held him until his breathing slowed.
Then I whispered, "You still have me."
He lifted his head.
I brushed away his tears.
"You still have us."
He kissed my forehead.
"I know."
The next morning, Vanessa called.
She sounded frightened.
"Emily, please tell Nick to check his email."
"Why?"
"My mother sent something to Martha's board members."
I frowned.
"What?"
"A statement claiming Grace forged the documents and convinced you to lie about the wedding."
My stomach twisted.
"That's ridiculous."
"I know."
Vanessa began crying.
"She used my name."
I sat straighter.
"What do you mean?"
"She said I witnessed you planning the whole thing."
I felt anger burn through me.
"But you didn't."
"I know. I never agreed to that."
"Can you correct it?"
"I already did."
I froze.
"What?"
"I sent a response to everyone who received it."
I heard her take a breath.
"I told them the statement was false."
I couldn't speak.
Vanessa continued.
"And I told them my mother was pressuring me to lie."
My eyes filled.
"Vanessa, that must have been difficult."
"She told me never to come home again."
I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
She gave a shaky laugh.
"I think I should have stopped trying to please her years ago."
I understood that feeling.
More than she knew.
"You're not alone," I said.
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered, "Thank you."
After the call, I walked into the kitchen.
My mother was making coffee.
Nick was speaking quietly with Grace.
For the first time in days, the house felt peaceful.
Then someone knocked.
My mother opened the door.
A police detective stood outside.
"Emily Bennett?"
I stepped forward.
"Yes?"
"I'm Detective Laura Hayes."
She showed me her identification.
"I'd like to speak with you about the break-in."
My heart began pounding.
"Did you find something?"
She nodded.
"We located security footage from a nearby property."
Nick came to stand beside me.
The detective looked at both of us.
"The footage shows the vehicle used by the person who entered your home."
I held my breath.
"Who was it?"
She paused.
"The car is registered to someone you know."
My hands went cold.
"Who?"
May you like
Detective Hayes looked directly at Nick.
"Your mother."
