Three months earlier, I discovered he had secretly tried to use documents from our wedding-planning folder to open a line of credit with my assets as collateral.
His mother was involved too.
Their emails were almost laughably arrogant.
Once you’re married, she won’t fight you.
Make sure she signs before the honeymoon.
After Europe, we can deal with the house.
The “house” belonged to me.
So did the investment account Derek had already promised would fund Patricia’s retirement.
I quietly contacted my attorney, bank, and the fraud department.
They instructed me not to confront him until they finished documenting the attempted transactions.
Today was supposed to be the final day I pretended not to know.
Derek had simply moved the timeline forward.
Lena uploaded the recording from my dress.
“Clear audio,” she said.
A pounding knock hit the door.
“Claire!”
Derek.
Another knock.
“Open the damn door.”
I started recording on my phone too.
“I need ten minutes.”
“You’ve had enough time.”
Patricia joined him outside.
“This is ridiculous. Guests are waiting.”
Then Derek said something that erased whatever doubt I had left.
“If she thinks she can ruin today, remind her whose house she’s coming home to tonight.”
Patricia laughed.
