Chapter 6 - The Honeymoon That Never Happened
Rebecca arrived at the hotel carrying a leather briefcase and the expression she usually wore before a difficult negotiation.
She hugged me first.
Then she became my lawyer.
“Phone.”
I handed it over.
She photographed Julian’s messages and exported the banking alerts.
“Marriage certificate.”
I gave it to her.
“Cashier’s check?”
“Here.”
“Passport?”
“Here.”
“Wedding cash?”
“In the safe.”
She nodded.
“Good.”
I sat across from her in the small hotel suite.
My wedding dress was still hanging in Julian’s house.
My bouquet was probably dying on the dining room table.
Our honeymoon flight to St. Lucia was scheduled for six the next morning.
Instead, I was drinking hotel coffee with a fraud attorney.
“How bad is this?”
Rebecca leaned back.
“I don’t know yet.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“It isn’t meant to be.”
She opened her laptop.
“I ran a preliminary public-record search while driving over.”
“And?”
“Victoria’s house has a substantial lien.”
“How substantial?”
“Two hundred and eighty-seven thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“That house isn’t worth much more than six hundred.”
“I know.”
“Julian told me the mortgage was almost paid off.”
“Julian lied.”
The sentence was simple.
Its implications were not.
Rebecca turned the laptop toward me.
“There’s more.”
A business record appeared.
Voss Development Group LLC.
I knew the name.
Julian and Caleb had started the company together four years earlier.
Julian always described it as a thriving property investment operation.
“They own three rental properties,” I said.
“Owned.”
“What?”
“Two were sold last year.”
I frowned.
“He never told me.”
“The third is scheduled for foreclosure proceedings.”
I felt a pressure building behind my eyes.
“How much debt?”
“Between personal guarantees, credit cards, business loans, and the property lien?”
She hesitated.
“Probably north of eight hundred thousand.”
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes shock has nowhere else to go.
“Eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And he was worried about me freeloading.”
Rebecca’s mouth tightened.
“That may have been theater.”
“The towel?”
“The rules.”
I stopped laughing.
She continued.
“Think about it.”
“He marries you.”
“Immediately establishes that you must contribute financially and domestically.”
“His mother reinforces the message.”
“Meanwhile, someone impersonates you to your attorney and asks how to move separate assets into marital structures.”
I pressed both hands against my temples.
“They planned this.”
“I think we need evidence before saying that definitively.”
“But you think it.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the wedding ring again.
“Why marry me?”
Rebecca gave me a sad look.
“You know why.”
I wanted to reject it.
I wanted to tell her Julian had loved the way I sang badly in the car.
That he knew I hated olives.
That he once drove three hours because I mentioned I was lonely.
But suddenly every sweet memory felt contaminated.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Caleb.
I almost ignored it.
Rebecca stopped me.
“Read it.”
I opened the text.
I’m sorry.
Then another appeared.
You need to know this wasn’t Mom’s idea this morning.
My heart started pounding.
A third message arrived.
They talked about what would happen after the wedding for months.
Rebecca and I looked at each other.
Then Caleb sent a photograph.
It showed a yellow legal pad on Victoria’s kitchen table.
May you like
At the top, in Julian’s handwriting, were four words.
ELENA - AFTER MARRIAGE PLAN.
