Chapter 5
I left the hospital with a police case number, a bag of medication, and a fear I couldn't shake.
Aunt Evelyn drove me to her house on the outskirts of Atlanta.
She had already prepared the guest bedroom.
Fresh sheets.
A warm blanket.
A small vase of yellow flowers beside the bed.
It reminded me of my mother.
For the first time since the wedding, I allowed myself to cry without trying to stop.
Evelyn sat beside me.
“You don't have to be strong every minute.”
I shook my head.
“I keep seeing him at the window.”
She wrapped her arms around me.
“I know.”
“He looked so calm.”
My voice broke.
“He knew I was dying, and he didn't care.”
Evelyn held me tighter.
I cried until I fell asleep.
The next morning, I woke to sunlight and the smell of coffee.
For one brief moment, I forgot everything.
Then I saw the white wedding gown hanging inside the open closet.
Evelyn had brought it from the hospital.
The fabric was stained with lake water and torn near the hem.
I stared at it.
I had chosen that dress because my mother once told me every bride deserved to feel beautiful on her wedding day.
Instead, I had nearly died inside it.
I pulled the closet door closed.
Then I went downstairs.
Evelyn was sitting at the kitchen table with Harold.
They both looked up.
“Nia,” Harold said gently. “I have some updates.”
I sat down.
He explained that the insurer had been notified of the disputed application and that the policy documents were being reviewed.
He also confirmed that the trust had safeguards requiring my direct authorization for major changes.
Marcus could not simply take control because he was my husband.
I felt a wave of relief.
“But what about the signatures?”
“Those are being examined.”
He placed another folder on the table.
“This contains copies of the documents Marcus submitted. I want you to review them and identify anything you recognize.”
I opened the folder.
Page after page contained my name.
My address.
My mother's estate information.
And signatures that looked disturbingly similar to mine.
Some were obvious imitations.
Others were almost perfect.
I remembered Marcus asking me to practice my signature on wedding place cards because he wanted them to look elegant.
At the time, I laughed.
He had watched me write my name dozens of times.
My stomach tightened.
“He practiced.”
Harold looked at me.
“What?”
“The signatures. He watched me write my name.”
I explained the place cards.
Harold made a note.
Then he pointed to a document near the bottom of the folder.
It was a proposed property management agreement.
The name of the management company made my blood run cold.
Vanessa Holdings LLC.
I stared at it.
“Vanessa?”
Harold nodded.
“The company was registered under Vanessa's name last year.”
My hands began shaking.
“So she was involved.”
“We know her company appears in the paperwork,” Harold said carefully. “The investigation will determine what role she played.”
I wanted to scream.
Vanessa had stood beside me during the final dress fitting.
She had complimented my flowers.
She had asked whether Marcus and I planned to have children.
All while her company was apparently connected to documents involving my inheritance.
I stood abruptly.
“I need air.”
Evelyn followed me onto the porch.
I gripped the railing.
“I feel stupid.”
She turned toward me.
“Why?”
“Because I trusted them.”
“Nia—”
“I invited her to my wedding! I let Marcus handle things because I thought he loved me!”
My voice broke.
“I signed papers without reading every line because I believed my husband wouldn't hurt me.”
Evelyn took my hands.
“Trusting someone doesn't make you stupid. Betraying that trust is their choice.”
I looked away.
“I don't know how I'll ever trust anyone again.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“One day at a time.”
That afternoon, Detective Harris called.
The medical review had found evidence that required further examination, but she couldn't yet confirm whether I had been deliberately given anything.
She also said investigators were reviewing the vehicle's mechanical condition and the circumstances surrounding the road incident.
I asked whether Marcus had been arrested.
“Not yet,” she answered. “We are continuing to gather evidence.”
I felt frustrated.
“He tried to kill me.”
“I understand what you're telling us, Nia. We are taking it seriously.”
After the call, I sat alone in the guest bedroom.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
I know what Marcus did.
My heart began pounding.
A second message followed.
Vanessa is not telling the police everything.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
If you want proof, look at the wedding photographs from the private garden.
I showed the messages to Evelyn.
She immediately contacted Detective Harris.
The detective advised us not to respond and asked us to preserve the messages.
Then she requested access to the wedding photographs.
Our photographer, Camille, had taken hundreds of pictures throughout the day.
Most were ordinary.
Flowers.
Guests.
My gown.
Marcus smiling beside me.
But when Camille sent the private garden photographs, one image made my breath catch.
Marcus stood beside Vanessa near the hedge.
His hand rested against her stomach.
Their faces were close.
Vanessa was smiling up at him.
The photograph had been taken less than an hour before the ceremony.
I felt my chest tighten.
Then I noticed another detail.
Vanessa was holding a small black envelope.
On its front was a gold logo.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the same logo printed on the documents from Vanessa Holdings LLC.
I enlarged the photograph.
Marcus was taking the envelope from her.
I stared at the screen.
Then I remembered something.
On the morning of the wedding, Marcus had disappeared for nearly twenty minutes.
When he returned, he seemed nervous.
He told me he had been speaking to the florist.
But the photograph showed something else.
May you like
He had been meeting Vanessa.
And whatever she handed him had been important enough to hide before the ceremony.
