“Is the condo in Savannah under her name yet?”
I stopped the playback.
Enough.
I called Dad.
He answered on the second ring.
“Mara? Everything okay?”
“Dad.”
Something in my voice changed his immediately.
“What happened?”
“I need you to contact your attorney.”
Silence.
Dad never panicked.
That was one of the things I loved most about him.
“Tell me.”
So I did.
Not beautifully.
Not calmly.
I started with hiding under the bed.
I told him about Lorraine.
The Savannah condo.
The plan to end the marriage.
The insult about him.
The unknown documents.
Dad interrupted only once.
“Do not confront Owen.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Send me the original recording immediately. Send it somewhere else too. Don’t edit anything.”
I emailed it to myself.
Then to Dad.
Then I uploaded a copy to cloud storage.
“Done.”
“I’m calling Rebecca.”
Rebecca Sloan had been Dad’s attorney for almost twenty years.
Corporate contracts.
Property matters.
Estate planning.
And, apparently, catastrophic weddings.
“Stay in the room,” Dad said.
“Dad, Owen will come back.”
“I know.”
“What am I supposed to tell him?”
“Nothing until Rebecca arrives.”
I stared at the door.
“She’s coming here?”
“She’s already here.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“She attended the wedding.”
I remembered a silver-haired woman in a navy dress.
Dad had introduced her as an old colleague.
Of course.
Twenty minutes later, someone knocked.
Three measured taps.
“Mara? Rebecca.”
I opened the door.
Rebecca Sloan entered carrying a small evening bag and wearing the same dark navy dress from the reception.
Dad came behind her.
The instant I saw him, something in me gave way.
Not completely.
Just enough.
He wrapped his arms around me carefully.
I pressed my forehead against his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
He pulled back.
“For what?”
“I should have seen it.”
“No.”
His voice was firm.
“You should have been able to trust the man you married.”
Rebecca had already moved toward the table.
“Mara, may I hear the recording?”
I handed her the phone.
She listened once.
Her face barely changed.
When it ended, she placed the phone down.
“Do you have every document Owen asked you to sign regarding Savannah?”
“I think so.”
“Don’t think. Show me.”
I opened my laptop.
There was a digital folder containing closing documents, emails, insurance information and title paperwork.
Rebecca read in silence.
The first document.
The second.
Then the third.
She stopped.
Dad leaned forward.
“What?”
Rebecca pointed to a line near the bottom.
“This agreement references a supplemental document.”
I moved closer.
I had read those pages before.
But I had skimmed that section because Owen had told me the attorney would handle everything.
“Who is Richard?” Rebecca asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve never met him?”
“No.”
Dad’s expression hardened.
Rebecca tapped the screen.
“This document was prepared through an office associated with Richard Hale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“What does the supplemental agreement do?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She looked directly at me.
“But based on the recording, somebody expects you to sign something you haven’t properly reviewed.”
My stomach tightened.
Rebecca closed the laptop.
“Mara, listen carefully. Do not sign anything tonight.”
“I won’t.”
“Nothing tomorrow either.”
“Okay.”
“No handwritten acknowledgment. No email agreeing to terms. Nothing presented as routine paperwork.”
“I understand.”
My phone buzzed.
All three of us looked down.
OWEN: Coming upstairs. Finally escaped everyone. Hope my beautiful wife is waiting for me.
Dad’s jaw tightened.
Rebecca remained perfectly calm.
“Let him come.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“We need to know what he brings.”
Footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Dad looked toward the sitting room connected to the suite.
Rebecca followed him.
Before disappearing behind the door, she turned.
“Act normal.”
Normal.
I looked down at my torn veil.
At the dust on my dress.
At the ring on my hand.
Then I sat on the edge of the bed.
The handle began to turn.
The door opened.
Owen entered smiling.
For one unbearable second, he looked exactly like the man I thought I had married.
His bow tie hung loose around his collar.
His hair had fallen slightly over his forehead.
He closed the door behind him and grinned.
“There’s my wife.”
I forced myself to smile.
“Finally.”
He came toward me and bent to kiss my forehead.
I let him.
Every muscle in my body wanted to pull away.
Then I looked at his right hand.
A cream-colored envelope.
I had never seen it before.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Owen glanced down.
“Oh, nothing important.”
He smiled again.
“Just one little thing we need to sign before we start our life together.”
And for the first time since I had met him, I knew exactly what his smile was hiding.
