Chapter 3
I spent that night in a hospital room listening to my daughter's heartbeat.
The sound was steady.
Strong.
Beautiful.
And every beat reminded me how close I had come to collapsing beneath the weight of humiliation.
My obstetrician examined me and arranged continued monitoring because I was eight months pregnant and had experienced a frightening confrontation.
Thankfully, there was no evidence of immediate harm to the baby.
I cried when she told me.
"She's doing well, Serena."
I pressed both hands over my belly.
"Thank God."
My father sat beside the bed.
He hadn't taken off his suit jacket.
His phone kept vibrating, but he ignored it.
For the first time since the ballroom, I felt safe enough to ask the question tormenting me.
"Dad, why would Bianca try to move money from our family accounts?"
He sighed.
"We don't know everything yet."
"Then tell me what you do know."
He looked at me carefully.
"The Carter Family Trust has an investment account established for you."
I nodded.
I'd known about the trust since college.
My late mother had created it before she died.
I received annual statements, but I rarely touched the money.
I'd built my own career as a compliance consultant because I wanted financial independence.
Dad continued.
"Three weeks ago, our trust administrator received inquiries about releasing funds for a business investment."
I frowned.
"What investment?"
"A luxury hospitality company."
I felt a chill.
Bianca had been talking about starting a luxury wedding-planning business for months.
She called it her dream.
Margaret had encouraged her.
I had even attended a dinner where they discussed potential investors.
But I never offered money.
"Bianca's company?"
Dad nodded.
"Apparently."
I stared at him.
"Did she ask to borrow from my trust?"
"Not directly. Someone submitted a document claiming you had authorized an investment."
My hands went numb.
"What document?"
Dad opened his tablet.
A scanned agreement appeared.
My full legal name was printed beneath a signature.
SERENA CARTER WHITMORE.
I stared.
"That's not my signature."
"I know."
The date was two weeks earlier.
I remembered that day.
I had spent the afternoon at my prenatal appointment.
Adrian was supposed to attend.
He canceled at the last minute because Margaret needed him.
My stomach tightened.
"Dad, who witnessed this?"
He enlarged the page.
I read the name.
ADRIAN WHITMORE.
My heart seemed to stop.
"No."
Dad said nothing.
I looked at him.
"Adrian wouldn't do that."
"I hope you're right."
I stared at the document.
The signature looked similar to mine.
But the final letter was wrong.
I never wrote the last stroke that way.
"Did the transfer happen?"
"No. The administrator requested independent confirmation."
I exhaled.
"Good."
"Then yesterday afternoon, a second request came through an electronic portal."
My stomach tightened.
"From Bianca?"
"The device information points toward one registered to her. We're still verifying the source."
I swallowed.
"And Adrian's phone?"
Dad nodded.
"His number was listed for verification."
I closed my eyes.
It could have been a mistake.
Someone could have used information without his knowledge.
But I couldn't forget the ballroom.
Adrian stepping toward me.
Stopping.
Looking at Margaret before deciding whether to defend me.
"Did you tell him?" I asked.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted to preserve the evidence and speak with you first."
I looked away.
For a moment, I felt angry with Dad too.
He had known something was wrong before the reception.
Yet I had still walked into that room.
He seemed to understand.
"I'm sorry I didn't warn you sooner."
I swallowed.
"Why didn't you?"
"We discovered the connection to Bianca only shortly before the ceremony. I was trying to reach you."
I remembered the message on my phone.
Call me immediately.
I had ignored it because Bianca asked me to help with the flowers.
My eyes filled.
"I should've called."
Dad squeezed my hand.
"Sweetheart, you had no reason to expect an attack."
I nodded.
Then the door opened.
Adrian stood in the hallway.
His eyes were red.
He held a bouquet of white roses.
"Serena?"
I felt my chest tighten.
Dad rose.
"You're not welcome here without her permission."
Adrian looked at me.
"Please. Five minutes."
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
Dad stepped outside but remained nearby.
Adrian placed the flowers on a table.
He looked at my hospital gown.
Then my belly.
"Is Grace okay?"
I nodded.
"She's doing well."
Relief crossed his face.
He began crying.
"Thank God."
I wanted to believe his tears meant everything had changed.
But I had learned something terrible that night.
A person could cry and still avoid the truth.
"Adrian, did you witness my signature on a trust document?"
He froze.
"What?"
I watched his face.
"Answer me."
He swallowed.
"Mom asked me to sign some paperwork."
My heart sank.
"What paperwork?"
"Something for Bianca's business."
I felt sick.
"Did you read it?"
He looked down.
"No."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The answer I'd feared.
"Adrian, that document claims I authorized eight hundred thousand dollars from my trust."
His head snapped up.
"What?"
"You signed as a witness."
He shook his head.
"Serena, I thought it was an investment proposal!"
I stared at him.
"Did you see me sign?"
"No."
"Then why did you sign that you did?"
His face crumpled.
"Mom said it was a formality."
My eyes filled.
"Your mother."
He nodded.
I felt something inside me become very still.
"Adrian, how many times have you believed her over me?"
He covered his face.
"I'm sorry."
"That doesn't answer the question."
He sat down heavily.
"I don't know."
I looked toward the window.
For years, Margaret had called me selfish.
Ungrateful.
Too independent.
She accused me of keeping Adrian away from his family.
And every time I objected, he asked me to be patient.
Now his patience had nearly allowed her to take my money.
And publicly destroy my reputation.
"Did you know about the ring?" I asked.
He looked horrified.
"No!"
I studied his expression.
I believed he was shocked.
But that didn't erase his other choices.
He reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"Serena..."
"I need time."
He nodded.
"I understand."
Then his phone vibrated.
Margaret.
He stared at the screen.
I watched him.
"Are you going to answer?"
He hesitated.
Then declined the call.
For a moment, I felt hope.
But before he could speak, another message arrived.
He read it.
His face went white.
"What is it?" I asked.
He swallowed.
"Mom says Bianca has already given the police a statement."
My stomach tightened.
"About what?"
Adrian looked at me.
Then whispered:
"She's claiming you assaulted her before the ring disappeared."
May you like
I stared at him.
And just like that, the woman who had framed me for theft was trying to turn me into the criminal again.
