Chapter 4: The Name on the Document
Rachel read the document a third time before she finally looked at me.
“Tell me you didn't sign this.””
“I didn't.””
“Did Ethan ever ask you to?””
“No. He told me I wouldn't need to sign anything.””
She looked back at the screen.
“Then why is your name listed as a personal guarantor?””
“I don't know.””
The words sounded inadequate, even to me.
A personal guarantee could make someone responsible for another party's obligations under certain circumstances. But I didn't know whether this document was legitimate, whether it had been finalized, or whether someone had used my information without permission.
I wasn't going to guess.
I forwarded the image to my attorney and included the original photographs I'd taken in Ethan's office.
Then I sent a short message to the unknown number.
*Me:* Who are you, and where did you get this document?
The reply came almost immediately.
*Unknown:* Someone who doesn't want you to discover the truth too late.
I stared at the screen.
*Me:* That doesn't answer my question.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, and appeared again.
Finally, another message arrived.
*Unknown:* Check the date on the document. Then check the amount Ethan told you your wedding would cost.
My pulse quickened.
Rachel leaned closer.
“What does that mean?””
“I don't know yet.””
I opened the wedding budget on my laptop.
Ethan and I had discussed the expenses repeatedly. He had insisted on an extravagant celebration because, according to him, his family valued presentation. The Fairmont ballroom had been his choice, though I had handled much of the planning.
The flowers, the photographer, the catering, the decorations.
I had paid my share, and he had paid his.
At least, that was what I believed.
I compared the budget with the documents I had saved.
The amounts didn't immediately match, but the unfamiliar account appeared in several places. Some payments were listed under wedding expenses in our records and under business-related transfers in the documents from Ethan's office.
I wrote down each discrepancy.
Rachel watched me work, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
“This is insane,” she whispered.
“Maybe there's an explanation.””
She gave me a look.
I knew what she was thinking.
After three years of defending Ethan, I was still trying to leave room for him to be innocent.
But I wasn't defending him anymore.
I was trying to establish what had happened before I accused anyone of anything.
My attorney called twenty minutes later.
“First, don't contact Ethan about this document yet,” she said.
“I need to review the information you've sent.””
“Do you think someone forged my signature?””
“I can't determine that from an image. I also can't confirm that this is an executed agreement. The distinction matters.””
I gripped the phone.
“What should I do?””
“Preserve everything. Keep your original records. Don't sign anything presented to you by Ethan or anyone connected to his family without independent review. And if you have reason to believe your identity has been used without authorization, we can discuss the appropriate steps once I have more information.””
“What about the money I contributed?””
“We'll review your records and determine what can be documented. Don't move money that isn't yours, and don't assume that a particular transfer gives you ownership of funds without examining the arrangement.””
“I've only secured my own contribution.””
“Good. Keep the transaction history.””
I thanked her and ended the call.
Rachel sat beside me.
“What's next?””
“I'm going to find out who sent this.””
“And if it's Ethan?””
I looked at the unknown number.
“Then I want to know why he's warning me about his own documents.””
My phone rang.
Ethan.
I watched it vibrate until the call ended.
A message followed.
*Ethan:* We need to talk. My father is furious, and you've made a complicated situation much worse.
I read it twice.
Not I want to explain what happened.
Not I'm sorry I humiliated you.
A complicated situation.
I typed a reply, then deleted it.
Instead, I saved the message and put my phone down.
Less than a minute later, Patricia called.
I almost declined, but something made me answer.
“Where are you?”” she demanded.
“Somewhere safe.””
“Don't be childish. Ethan says you've taken money from the wedding account.””
“I transferred my documented contribution to my separate account.””
“That money was supposed to pay the remaining bills!””
“The vendors will be paid according to the records and the arrangements we've made. I'm not taking anyone else's money.””
Patricia gave a disbelieving laugh.
“You have no idea how much damage you're causing.””
I glanced at Rachel.
“Then explain it to me.””
Silence.
“Excuse me?””
“You keep telling me I'm causing damage. Ethan says there's a complicated situation. I've found documents with my name on them that I never signed. If there's an explanation, I'd like to hear it.””
Her voice changed.
“What documents?””
The question came too quickly.
I sat straighter.
“Why? Do you know about them?””
“Don't twist my words.””
“I'm asking a simple question.””
“You have always been suspicious of our family. Ethan has been under tremendous pressure, and instead of supporting him, you've chosen to humiliate him in front of two hundred people.””
“Did you know my name was listed as a personal guarantor?””
The silence that followed was different.
Longer.
Heavier.
When Patricia finally spoke, her voice was quiet.
“You need to stop looking at things you don't understand.””
My stomach tightened.
“That's exactly what Ethan told me.””
“Because he's trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
She hung up.
I stared at the screen.
Rachel slowly lowered her phone.
“Did she just hang up on you?””
“Yes.””
“After telling you to stop looking at documents with your own name on them?””
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.
For the first time, I was beginning to suspect that Patricia's hostility toward me had never been solely about Madison, my appearance, or whether I was the right woman for her son.
She knew something.
And whatever it was, she was frightened of my discovering it.
A new message arrived from the unknown number.
*Unknown:* Patricia knows the agreement exists. She was there when Ethan discussed it.
My hands went cold.
*Me:* Who are you?
This time, the response came with a name.
*Unknown:* Daniel Brooks.
I recognized it.
Daniel was Ethan's cousin. He worked in the family's business and had attended several of our engagement celebrations, usually keeping to himself while the louder members of the family dominated the room.
I had never been particularly close to him.
But I remembered one evening when Ethan had complained about Daniel questioning a financial decision.
Ethan had called him disloyal.
Patricia had called him ungrateful.
I had assumed it was an ordinary family disagreement.
Now I wasn't so sure.
*Me:* Why are you sending me this?
His answer took several minutes.
*Daniel:* Because you were never supposed to be responsible for what they were planning.
Before I could reply, another message appeared.
*Daniel:* And because the wedding was supposed to make everything easier for them.
I read the words until they blurred.
The wedding.
Not simply the money.
Not merely the agreement.
The wedding itself.
Rachel reached for my hand.
“What does he mean?””
I looked at the message again.
Then I opened the document and enlarged the date.
Two weeks before the wedding, I had discovered the first suspicious financial record.
But the document Daniel had sent me had been prepared months earlier.
Months before the flowers.
Months before the invitations.
Months before Ethan had slipped a diamond onto my finger and promised that we would build a life together.
I had thought I was planning a marriage.
May you like
Someone else had apparently been planning what my name could do for them.
And now that I had walked away, they were scrambling to keep me from finding out why.
