Chapter 3 - Genevieve’s Promises
Elodie came to see me that afternoon.
She arrived alone.
No husband.
No parents.
No Adrian.
She brought a small notebook from her wedding-planning bag.
“I think you need this.”
Genevieve had kept handwritten planning notes for nearly every major family event.
Elodie had copied several pages before returning the notebook.
At first, the notes looked ordinary.
Florist.
Guest seating.
Wine.
Transportation.
Then I saw a section labeled FAMILY CONTRIBUTIONS.
Graham and Genevieve.
Venue.
Adrian and Isla.
Condo deed.
Graham’s brother.
Honeymoon flights.
Elodie’s godmother.
Jewelry.
My condominium had been listed as if it were a casserole assignment.
Then another page.
FUTURE FAMILY STRUCTURE.
Isla to assist Graham liquidity by year-end.
Adrian to consolidate company spending.
Toronto condo transfer before Elodie’s first anniversary.
Bianca advisory role expanded after Q4.
I stared at the words.
Bianca advisory role.
After Q4.
This was bigger than an affair.
Genevieve had been planning Bianca’s permanent place inside family finances.
Elodie looked ashamed.
“I didn’t know what any of that meant.”
“I believe you.”
“She kept saying you had too much control.”
“Over my own company?”
“She called it family imbalance.”
I laughed once.
Of course she did.
Whenever I owned something, the Arden family renamed ownership as imbalance.
Whenever they wanted access, they called access unity.
Elodie continued.
“There’s another page.”
She handed me a photograph.
At the top, Genevieve had written.
POST-ISLA CONTINGENCY.
My entire body went cold.
Underneath were three bullet points.
Adrian residence transfer.
Bianca public transition after appropriate interval.
Protect Arden reputation.
I read them twice.
Then a third time.
“Public transition?”
Elodie whispered.
“I think Mom planned for Bianca to become official.”
“How long has she known?”
“I don’t know.”
I did.
Long enough to create a timeline.
Long enough to seat Bianca beside Adrian at a wedding and test whether I would tolerate public replacement.
That chair had not been an insult chosen in the moment.
It had been rehearsal.
If I sat quietly at the side table, Genevieve would know exactly how much humiliation I would swallow.
May you like
I did not sit.
And now their contingency plan was sitting in front of me.
