Chapter 3 - The Groom’s Signature
Lily grabbed the document.
“What is this?”
Andrew reached for it.
Mercer stopped him.
“Don’t touch evidence.”
Lily looked at her husband.
“Why is your name on Claire’s apartment?”
Andrew’s face reddened.
“It’s not what it looks like.”
I almost laughed.
It was the sentence guilty people always seemed to choose.
Mercer pointed at the signature page.
“Did you sign this?”
“No.”
“Your full legal name appears here.”
“Anyone could have typed it.”
“And this?”
Mercer indicated a handwritten signature.
Andrew stared at it.
Dad intervened.
“That document was only a draft.”
I turned toward him.
“You knew about it?”
Dad realized his mistake.
Lily’s expression collapsed.
“Dad?”
He took a breath.
“We were trying to help you.”
“By putting Andrew’s name on Claire’s penthouse?”
“It was supposed to become marital property.”
I stared at him.
“That apartment is mine.”
“You are one person, Claire.”
His voice sharpened.
“You do not need three bedrooms overlooking Central Park.”
For years, Dad had disguised greed as practicality.
Tonight he finally stopped pretending.
Lily began crying.
Not because they had tried to rob me.
Because she had just discovered they had lied to her too.
“You told me Claire agreed.”
Mom reached for her.
“Sweetheart.”
“Don’t.”
Lily stepped away.
Andrew took her hand.
“Baby, listen.”
She ripped her hand free.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
Mercer watched him.
“Then you won’t mind surrendering your phone.”
Andrew froze.
There it was.
Mercer saw it.
I saw it.
Even Lily saw it.
Andrew forced a laugh.
“My phone has confidential business information.”
“So does every phone we seize.”
“I’m an investment consultant.”
“You work for Braxton Capital Advisory.”
Andrew’s expression changed.
Mercer continued.
“Braxton was the broker listed on the fraudulent loan package.”
The air left the room.
Lily slowly turned toward her new husband.
“What?”
Andrew’s face had gone completely blank.
Mercer held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Andrew suddenly shoved past Dad.
Two officers moved.
Andrew bolted toward the service corridor.
Guests screamed as chairs overturned.
I watched my sister’s brand-new husband sprint through his own wedding reception with federal investigators chasing him.
Mercer did not follow.
He merely looked at me.
“People who run usually know where the bodies are buried.”
A crash came from the corridor.
Seconds later, an officer shouted.
“We’ve got him.”
Lily covered her mouth.
Mom sank into a chair.
Dad stared at the floor.
And then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
They’re arresting the wrong person.
Another appeared.
May you like
Ask your father what happened to your grandmother’s trust.
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