Chapter 8
Victoria called from jail that afternoon.
I almost ignored it.
Lydia told me to record.
So I answered.
“Glenn,” Victoria sobbed. “Please. You know I didn’t mean for this to become legal.”
“You forged loan documents.”
“Raymond pressured me.”
“You cut my suit.”
“I was angry.”
“You planned to make me mortgage my house.”
“We needed help.”
“No,” I said. “You wanted escape money.”
Her voice changed.
The softness vanished.
“You always acted like a saint because you paid for things.”
“I acted like a husband.”
“You acted like a tailor. Small. Humble. Convenient.”
There she was.
The woman beneath the apology.
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me why I’m not bailing you out.”
She screamed until the call disconnected.
Lydia used the recording in the bond hearing.
Victoria’s request for reduced bail was denied.
Raymond’s too.
Then the bank officer flipped.
His name was Carl Denton.
He admitted Victoria and Raymond offered him twenty thousand dollars to push the forged loan through.
He also admitted something worse.
They had prepared a second mortgage packet against the Bayfront Pavilion.
My venue.
My trust.
My father’s last gift to me.
I stood in Lydia’s office as she read the statement.
“They weren’t going to stop at the house.”
“No,” she said.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Logan.
Can we talk?
I agreed.
He arrived alone.
No parents.
No lawyers.
Just a young man whose wedding day had collapsed under the truth.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
“I believe you.”
“I loved her.”
“I believe that too.”
He swallowed.
“Did she ever love you?”
The question cut deep.
I looked at the suit scraps in a bag beside my chair.
“I think she loved what I gave her.”
May you like
He nodded slowly.
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
