Chapter 5
I stared at my father.
“What information could they possibly have?”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Then took a slow breath.
“Six months ago, Bennett Development reviewed a hotel project brought to us by Gregory Sloan.”
I nodded.
“You told me that.”
He continued.
“The project involved a building downtown that needed major structural repairs.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Our engineers found serious concerns.”
I leaned forward.
“What kind?”
“Foundation movement. Water damage. Questions about whether the proposed budget could cover the repairs safely.”
I stared at him.
My father continued.
“We declined the investment.”
I nodded slowly.
“Then why would Diane threaten you?”
Arthur looked down.
“Because someone circulated an incomplete internal memo suggesting we were willing to participate.”
I frowned.
“Were you?”
“No.”
He shook his head.
“We were reviewing the opportunity. That's not the same as approving it.”
I took a breath.
“And the memo?”
“It was an early discussion draft.”
My stomach tightened.
“Could someone make it look like you supported the project?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
For years, my father had built his reputation on careful decisions.
He refused projects that didn't meet safety standards.
He'd walked away from enormous profits rather than approve buildings he believed were unsafe.
Now Diane was threatening to distort that record.
I looked at Arthur.
“Did she get the memo from Gregory?”
“We don't know.”
I took a breath.
“Then we need to find out.”
My father studied me.
For a moment, his expression softened.
“You sound like your mother.”
My eyes filled.
Mom.
The woman who'd taught me never to let fear make my decisions.
I smiled sadly.
“She would've hated this.”
Arthur nodded.
“She would've.”
Then he reached across the table.
“But she'd be proud that you're asking questions.”
I squeezed his hand.
For the first time since the wedding, I felt something besides heartbreak.
Determination.
I wasn't going to let Marcus and Diane rewrite what happened.
I wasn't going to let them use my company.
And I wasn't going to let anyone threaten my father into paying for their mistakes.
The next morning, Camille helped me prepare a formal response to the disputed guarantee.
The lender was notified that I hadn't authorized the signatures.
My company's legal team reviewed the records.
Relevant accounts were secured.
And investigators began examining the electronic submissions.
I followed every recommendation carefully.
I didn't want revenge.
I wanted the truth.
But that afternoon, Marcus called.
I stared at his name on my phone.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Then I answered.
“Nia.”
His voice sounded tired.
Almost gentle.
I felt tears rise immediately.
“Marcus.”
There was a pause.
Then he whispered, “I miss you.”
My chest tightened.
For three years, those words had been enough to soften any disagreement.
But not anymore.
I took a breath.
“Why did you need my signature?”
Silence.
“Nia…”
“Answer me.”
He sighed.
“You don't understand how much pressure I'm under.”
I stared at the wall.
“Then explain it.”
“My company is struggling.”
My eyes filled.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He hesitated.
“I was afraid you'd judge me.”
I closed my eyes.
“Marcus, I loved you.”
His voice broke.
“I know.”
“I would've listened.”
Silence.
“But you didn't ask me for help.”
He took a breath.
“You knew my business mattered to me.”
I nodded, though he couldn't see.
“Yes.”
“And you knew I wanted to build something successful.”
“Of course.”
His voice sharpened.
“Then why couldn't you just trust me?”
I felt something inside me go still.
“Because you asked me to sign nearly five million dollars in financial guarantees without explaining them.”
He sighed.
“Nia, those were standard documents.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
I continued.
“And someone used my signature without permission.”
Silence.
Then Marcus whispered, “I didn't know they'd submit it that way.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
“Marcus.”
He swallowed.
“I thought Gregory was going to prepare the paperwork for you to review.”
I stared at the wall.
“Did you give him access to my documents?”
A long silence.
Then he whispered, “I might've sent him some information.”
My hands began shaking.
“What information?”
“Financial statements.”
My chest tightened.
“Marcus…”
“And some sample contracts.”
I covered my mouth.
The same files accessed from my laptop.
The same records collected from my office.
He had shared them.
He'd handed my private business information to someone who wanted to borrow millions in my name.
I began crying.
“Why?”
His voice broke.
“I thought it would save everything.”
I shook my head.
“You could've told me the truth.”
“I was afraid you'd say no.”
I froze.
Those words.
They explained more than any financial report.
He knew I might refuse.
So he'd looked for another way.
I took a breath.
“Marcus, did you know the signature was applied without my authorization?”
He hesitated.
Then whispered, “I didn't think they'd finalize anything before you signed.”
My heart broke.
He wasn't denying that my signature had been used.
He was explaining why he'd allowed the process to move forward.
I closed my eyes.
“I can't do this.”
“Nia, please.”
“I need you to communicate through the attorneys.”
His voice became desperate.
“Don't let your father ruin us.”
I felt tears slip down my cheeks.
“My father didn't throw me into the rain.”
Silence.
“He didn't demand I sign those documents.”
Marcus whispered, “Nia…”
“And he didn't abandon me when I needed help.”
I ended the call.
Then I sat quietly.
For the first time, I understood something painful.
Marcus might have loved parts of me.
My kindness.
My attention.
The stability I gave him.
But when his ambitions became desperate, he'd treated my consent like an obstacle.
And I couldn't build a marriage with someone who believed my right to say no was negotiable.
That evening, my father found me sitting beside the garden.
He looked concerned.
“Princess?”
I smiled weakly.
“Hi, Dad.”
He sat beside me.
For a while, we watched the sunset.
Then I whispered, “I talked to Marcus.”
Arthur nodded.
“How did it go?”
I swallowed.
“He admitted sharing my documents.”
My father's expression hardened.
I continued.
“He said he was afraid I'd refuse.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
Then he took my hand.
“Nia, I'm sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“For not recognizing how much pressure they were putting on you.”
I shook my head.
“Dad, you warned me.”
He sighed.
“I warned you about possibilities. I couldn't know what Marcus would choose.”
My eyes filled.
I leaned against him.
Then he whispered something I would never forget.
“Being wrong about someone doesn't make you foolish.”
I began crying.
“It makes you human.”
For a long time, he held me.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Camille.
We identified the account that submitted the revised authorization.
My heart began pounding.
I opened the attachment.
It contained an access record.
The account belonged to Gregory Sloan.
But the login originated from an internet connection associated with the mansion.
I stared at the timestamp.
8:47 p.m.
The exact time I was leaving in my father's car.
I looked toward Arthur.
“Dad…”
He read the record.
Then his expression changed.
May you like
Because according to the event schedule, Gregory had been in a private office with Marcus at that exact time.
And someone had used my identity while my wedding gown was still dripping rainwater onto the back seat of my father's car.
