Chapter 1 - THE WEDDING THAT NEVER HAPPENED
Daniel learned the wedding was canceled seventeen minutes after I did it.
I know because my phone began vibrating while I was still parked two streets from my house.
First Daniel.
Then Patricia.
Then Daniel again.
Then the wedding planner.
Then my mother’s cousin.
Then Patricia.
I answered none of them.
Instead, I drove directly to Martin Bell’s office with Daniel’s documents photographed on my phone and my father’s watch sitting inside my purse.
Martin had been Dad’s attorney for almost thirty years.
He did not waste time telling me everything would be okay.
He enlarged the photographs on his monitor and read every page.
The first document appointed Daniel as an “authorized property manager.”
The second allowed him to communicate with banks and tenants connected to several Ellison properties.
The third concerned Harbor Street.
Martin stopped there.
“This one is dangerous.”
“How?”
“It doesn’t transfer ownership.”
“Then what does it do?”
“It gives Daniel authority to negotiate financing secured by the property.”
My stomach tightened.
“Could he mortgage Harbor Street?”
“Not alone.”
“But?”
“He could begin the process.”
I thought about Patricia laughing in my kitchen.
Everything will finally be official.
Then my phone rang again.
Daniel.
This time I answered.
“Claire, what the hell is happening?”
“The wedding is canceled.”
Silence.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Why?”
I looked at Martin.
He nodded once.
“I came home.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“How much did you hear?”
Wrong question.
Not what did you misunderstand?
Not please let me explain.
How much?
“Enough.”
“Claire, those documents aren’t what you think.”
“You were discussing my company three hours before marrying me.”
“I was discussing helping you.”
“By taking control?”
“No!”
His voice broke.
“Patricia gets carried away.”
“Your mother didn’t put the documents in your briefcase.”
Silence.
Then Daniel whispered:
“Let me come explain.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
For the first time in four years, saying that word to him felt easy.
I ended the call.
Martin was still staring at the trust summary I had found in Daniel’s briefcase.
Then something strange happened.
He smiled.
Not happily.
Almost with disbelief.
“What?”
He turned the document toward me.
“Claire, Daniel has a problem.”
“What?”
“This trust summary is not the real one.”
I stared.
“What do you mean?”
“Your father created this copy deliberately.”
“Why?”
Martin leaned back.
“Because six years ago, Robert Ellison became convinced someone might eventually try to gain control of Harbor Street through you.”
My mouth went dry.
“Someone?”
Martin opened an old locked cabinet behind his desk.
Then removed a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front in Dad’s handwriting.
Underneath were five words.
IF DANIEL MERCER ASKS QUESTIONS.
May you like
I stopped breathing.
My father had written Daniel’s name before I ever knew there was anything to fear.
