Chapter 6
Brooke did not sleep.
Neither did I.
Lily managed three peaceful hours curled between us on the hotel bed, completely unaware that adults had turned her aunt’s wedding night into a criminal investigation.
At 5:12 in the morning, Nathan called again.
Brooke stared at the screen.
I expected her to ignore it.
Instead, she answered.
“What did the police find?”
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Enough to freeze the Blue Harbor account.”
Brooke sat up.
“The money?”
“Still there.”
For the first time all night, something good happened.
I exhaled.
Brooke didn’t.
“What about Marissa?”
“They’re looking for her.”
“What happened six years ago?”
Nathan hesitated.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“You said that last night.”
“I know.”
“Then start.”
He did.
The story was worse than I expected.
Nathan and Marissa had been scheduled to marry at his parents’ country club.
The night before the ceremony, she had attended the rehearsal dinner.
Everything seemed normal.
At eleven, she left.
By midnight, nobody could reach her.
Diane told everyone Marissa had panicked.
At seven the next morning, Marissa called Nathan.
She refused to say where she had been.
She only said the wedding was over.
Nathan went to her apartment.
It was empty.
Most of her clothes were gone.
Two weeks later, she moved to another state.
“She never explained?” Brooke asked.
“No.”
“And your mother?”
“She said Marissa had always been unstable.”
I winced.
That sounded exactly like Diane.
Brooke asked, “Did you believe her?”
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
Nathan’s voice grew quieter.
“I wanted to.”
Brooke looked away.
“That’s becoming a pattern.”
“I know.”
He didn’t argue.
Again, that mattered.
“What changed?” she asked.
“A year later, I ran into Marissa’s brother.”
“And?”
“He told me she didn’t leave because she was afraid of marriage.”
Brooke’s hand tightened around the phone.
“Why did she leave?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
“You never asked Marissa?”
“I tried.”
“She blocked me.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Nathan’s voice cracked.
“I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
“Of not knowing my own life.”
That shut Brooke up.
I understood it.
Sometimes unanswered betrayal makes you feel stupid.
So you stop asking questions because every new answer threatens to prove how little you understood.
Nathan continued.
“Then I met you.”
Brooke’s eyes closed.
“I decided the past didn’t matter.”
“It matters now.”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“What about the nine hundred thousand dollars?”
Nathan sighed.
“Dad is reviewing records.”
“Is Marissa connected?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Brooke sat very still.
Then she asked the question I knew was hurting her most.
“Did you ever love her?”
Nathan didn’t rush.
“Yes.”
Brooke flinched.
“But not like I love you.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That line is supposed to help?”
“No.”
“Then why say it?”
“Because you asked for truth.”
That stopped her again.
She nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
Nathan continued.
“I loved who I thought she was. Then everything ended without explanation. For years, I blamed myself.”
Brooke wiped a tear.
“And your mother used that.”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“Brooke, I’m still learning what she did.”
His voice broke.
“I spent my whole life trusting her.”
Brooke softened.
Then immediately seemed angry at herself for softening.
“I need time.”
“You can have all of it.”
“No pressure?”
“None.”
“No showing up at the door?”
“No.”
“No messages every ten minutes?”
“I won’t.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
She ended the call.
At 7:30, an attorney named Rachel Morgan arrived.
David had recommended her.
Brooke insisted on paying Rachel herself.
Rachel was in her forties, direct, calm, and uninterested in anyone’s feelings until she understood the facts.
I liked her immediately.
She reviewed the property paperwork.
Then she reviewed Brooke and Nathan’s premarital agreement.
Brooke had almost forgotten they had one.
Diane had insisted on it.
Ironically, it became Brooke’s strongest protection.
“The agreement clearly separates premarital business obligations,” Rachel said.
Brooke frowned.
“So I’m not responsible for the company debt?”
“Not based on what I see here.”
“And the house?”
“Your fifty percent interest appears protected.”
Brooke finally exhaled.
Rachel continued.
“Nathan’s portion is complicated, but if his signature was forged, the transfer can likely be challenged.”
“What should I do?”
“Freeze joint financial movement until we know more.”
Brooke looked sick.
“Against Nathan?”
“Not against him. For yourself.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Trust is emotional. Financial protection is procedural. Do not confuse the two.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Around nine, Robert called Brooke.
She almost didn’t answer.
Then she did.
His voice sounded terrible.
“I’m sorry.”
Brooke closed her eyes.
“You didn’t do this.”
“I let it happen.”
“How?”
“I stopped asking questions.”
There it was again.
The family disease.
Silence.
Avoidance.
Trust without verification.
Robert continued.
“Diane handled the books because she said I was outdated.”
“Did you know about Marissa?”
A long pause.
“I knew she and Diane had remained close.”
Brooke straightened.
“How close?”
“Closer than Nathan knew.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw emails years ago.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I thought it was none of my business.”
Brooke laughed bitterly.
“Everybody in this family keeps saying that right before admitting they knew something important.”
Robert had no defense.
She asked, “What were the emails about?”
“Mostly the company.”
“Mostly?”
“There was one message.”
He stopped.
Brooke waited.
“What message?”
“Marissa asked Diane if Nathan had signed the revised estate documents.”
Brooke frowned.
“When?”
“The week before their wedding.”
My skin prickled.
“What estate documents?” I asked.
Robert heard me.
“I don’t know.”
Brooke whispered, “Did Nathan sign anything?”
“Not that I knew.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
Brooke closed her eyes.
Robert sounded ashamed.
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
After the call ended, Rachel immediately requested records from the Whitmore family attorney.
By noon, David called.
They had found something.
An old trust amendment.
Six years earlier, three days before Nathan’s canceled wedding, Diane had attempted to change the family trust.
Under the amendment, if Nathan married, his future spouse would receive significant voting rights in Whitmore Holdings if anything happened to him.
That sounded normal.
Until Rachel read the second provision.
“If Nathan’s marriage ended before five years,” she said slowly, “those voting rights would transfer to a designated family adviser.”
Brooke frowned.
“Who?”
Rachel looked up.
“Diane.”
My stomach dropped.
“But Nathan never married Marissa,” Brooke said.
“No.”
“So the amendment never mattered.”
Rachel nodded.
“Correct.”
“Then why does it matter now?”
Rachel turned another page.
“Because someone reactivated the same amendment six months ago.”
Brooke froze.
“What?”
“Different spouse.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
Rachel continued.
“And someone changed the designated adviser.”
Brooke’s face went pale.
“Who is it now?”
May you like
Rachel looked at us.
“Marissa Cole.”
