Chapter 3
I laughed when my father told me Vanessa was Marcus's wife.
Not because anything was funny.
Because my brain couldn't accept one more terrible thing.
I had just caught my fiancé kissing my closest friend.
Discovered documents bearing a signature I never wrote.
Learned that someone had attempted to arrange an eight-million-dollar transaction using my family's company.
And now Dad was telling me Marcus was already married.
I stared at him.
"That's impossible."
His expression was serious.
"Nia."
"No."
I shook my head.
"Marcus proposed to me."
Dad reached for my hand.
"I know."
"We've been planning this wedding for fourteen months."
"I know."
"He stood in front of our church and promised to love me."
My voice broke.
"Daddy, he can't already be married."
Dad didn't argue.
He simply showed me the information his company's attorney had forwarded.
A marriage record.
Marcus Reed.
Vanessa Carter.
Married three years earlier in Fulton County, Georgia.
I stared at the date.
Three years.
I had been dating Marcus for four.
My knees weakened.
I grabbed the arm of the chair.
"He married her while he was dating me."
Dad nodded slowly.
My stomach turned.
Every holiday.
Every anniversary.
Every birthday.
Every time Marcus said he was traveling for business.
I thought about the weekends he disappeared.
The nights he couldn't answer his phone.
The excuses.
The promises.
The way Vanessa always knew where he was.
I had interpreted their closeness as friendship.
Now I understood something horrifying.
They had been married almost the entire time I believed Marcus was building a future with me.
I covered my face.
"How could they do this?"
Dad pulled me close.
I cried against his chest.
Then anger began replacing the shock.
I stepped backward.
"Does the bank know?"
Dad nodded.
"The account appears to have been opened using their marital information."
I stared at him.
"So they were planning to use my money."
"We don't know every detail yet."
I shook my head.
"Dad, she knew."
My voice rose.
"Vanessa knew everything about me."
I began pacing.
"She knew how much Mom's death hurt me."
Dad closed his eyes.
"She knew I wanted a family."
I stopped.
"She knew I trusted her."
My father looked at me with tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I wiped my cheeks.
"No."
He looked confused.
"I'm not going to spend the rest of today crying because two people decided I was easy to fool."
I took a breath.
"What do we do now?"
Dad studied me.
Then nodded.
"First, we protect the company."
He called our family attorney, Patricia Monroe.
She had worked with Bennett Heritage Holdings for more than fifteen years.
She arrived at the venue within forty minutes.
By then, my wedding coordinator had moved the guests into the reception hall.
Nobody had explained what happened.
Rumors were spreading.
Some people thought Marcus had gotten cold feet.
Others believed there had been a family emergency.
I didn't care.
Patricia entered the bridal suite carrying a leather briefcase.
She looked at me.
Then at my wedding gown.
Her expression softened.
"Oh, Nia."
I tried to smile.
"Not exactly how I planned today."
She hugged me carefully.
Then sat beside Dad.
They reviewed the documents.
Patricia examined the supposed transfer agreement.
Then asked whether I had ever signed anything involving Reed Strategic Partners.
I shook my head.
"Never."
"Did you give Marcus access to your father's business records?"
I hesitated.
"He helped me organize some estate documents last year."
Dad looked up sharply.
"What documents?"
My stomach tightened.
"The ones Mom left me."
Dad stared at me.
"Nia."
I swallowed.
"Marcus said he knew a financial planner who could help."
Patricia looked concerned.
"Did you give him copies?"
I nodded.
Dad closed his eyes.
I immediately felt ashamed.
"I'm sorry."
He reached for my hand.
"Don't apologize."
Patricia remained calm.
"We need to know exactly what information he received."
I explained.
Bank statements.
Trust summaries.
Copies of identification documents.
And a few pages from my mother's estate.
Patricia took careful notes.
Then she asked something unexpected.
"Nia, did Marcus ever ask about the voting rights attached to your inheritance?"
I frowned.
"Yes."
Dad went still.
"What did he say?"
I thought carefully.
"He said when we got married, he wanted us to make financial decisions together."
Patricia nodded slowly.
"And did he mention becoming a trustee?"
My stomach dropped.
"Yes."
Dad looked away.
I stared at Patricia.
"Why?"
She opened the agreement.
"Because this document attempts to give him authority over assets he doesn't currently control."
I felt sick.
My mother had left me a substantial interest in Bennett Heritage Holdings.
Dad managed the company.
I worked as director of community programs.
My inheritance was held in a trust designed to protect me until I turned thirty.
I had never worried about the legal details.
I trusted Dad.
And I trusted Marcus.
That was the mistake.
Patricia explained that my marriage would not automatically give Marcus control of my trust.
The document appeared designed to create that authority separately.
I looked at Dad.
"Would it have worked?"
Patricia answered.
"Not without satisfying legal requirements. But fraudulent paperwork can create serious problems before it's challenged."
I breathed out slowly.
At least we had stopped the transaction.
Or so I thought.
Then Patricia's phone rang.
She listened.
Her expression changed.
"Repeat that."
Dad leaned forward.
She frowned.
"Send everything immediately."
When she ended the call, she looked at us.
"The bank has found an earlier transaction."
My heart tightened.
"What transaction?"
"A withdrawal from an account associated with Nia's inheritance."
I stared at her.
"How much?"
She hesitated.
"Two hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars."
My stomach dropped.
I felt dizzy.
"That's impossible."
Patricia looked at me carefully.
"The bank is reviewing how the authorization was obtained."
I shook my head.
"I never withdrew that money."
She nodded.
"I believe you."
Dad stood abruptly.
His face was dark with anger.
"Marcus."
I grabbed his arm.
"Daddy, please."
He looked at me.
I could see how badly he wanted to confront the man.
But he took a breath.
Then sat down.
Patricia continued.
"The withdrawal appears to have been made several months ago."
I felt sick.
Several months.
While I was choosing wedding flowers.
While Vanessa was arranging my bridal shower.
While Marcus was promising me forever.
They had already been taking money.
I stared at the floor.
Then something occurred to me.
"Wait."
Everyone looked at me.
I thought about a conversation with Marcus from six months earlier.
He had asked whether my mother left me anything besides the company shares.
I told him about a separate account.
A fund Mom had established for my future children.
I remembered how interested he became.
He asked whether the account had restrictions.
I thought he was being responsible.
Now my stomach twisted.
I looked at Patricia.
"There's another account."
Dad frowned.
"What account?"
I swallowed.
"The one Mom created for my children."
Patricia's expression changed.
"Do you have the documents?"
I nodded.
"They're at my apartment."
She leaned forward.
"Nia, I need you to tell me something."
My heart pounded.
"Did Marcus ever have access to that apartment?"
I stared at her.
"He lived there."
The room went silent.
Then Patricia asked the question I was suddenly terrified to answer.
"Did he have access to the safe where you kept the trust paperwork?"
I closed my eyes.
May you like
Because the answer was yes.
And the moment I admitted it, I understood that we might not have discovered the worst part yet.
