Chapter 2
I sat at my desk in the basement office, the deeds spread out before me like a hand of cards I’d been holding for years.
The Bayfront Pavilion.
I’d bought it five years ago, when the previous owner was desperate to sell. I’d paid cash, using savings Victoria never knew about. I’d put it in the trust for one reason: to protect it from creditors, from lawsuits, from anything that could take away what I’d built.
I never imagined I’d need to protect it from my own family.
I logged into my bank account.
That’s when I saw it.
Regular withdrawals. Small at first, then larger. Two hundred dollars a month. Then five hundred. Then a thousand.
Over the past three years, Victoria had siphoned nearly forty thousand dollars from our joint savings.
And every single transfer had gone to the same account.
Raymond’s.
I felt my blood turn to ice.
This wasn’t a sudden betrayal. It had been planned. Calculated. Three years in the making. While I’d been working late into the night, sewing suits for strangers, my wife had been sending my money to the man who’d abandoned her and her child.
And Sabrina had known.
Of course she’d known.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the computer screen. The numbers blurred together. Forty thousand dollars. Enough to buy a car. Enough for a down payment on a small house. Enough to pay for a year of university.
Gone.
Given to a man who’d never worked a day to provide for Sabrina. A man who’d disappeared when things got hard.
I picked up my phone and called my attorney.
“Eleanor,” I said when she answered. “I need you to meet me at the Bayfront Pavilion at six tomorrow morning.”
“Glenn? It’s nearly midnight. Is everything—”
“Everything is about to change,” I said. “I need the trust documents ready. And I need you to prepare to terminate all event contracts held under my name, effective immediately.”
There was a pause on the line.
“The wedding tomorrow,” she said, understanding.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure about this, Glenn? There will be consequences.”
“I’ve paid fifteen thousand dollars for a wedding I’m not even invited to,” I said. “My wife has been stealing from me for three years. My daughter just called another man her real father. I think consequences are exactly what’s needed.”
Eleanor was quiet for a moment.
“I’ll be there at six,” she said.
I hung up.
Then I opened another file on my computer. The wedding contracts.
Catering. Flowers. Music. Photography. The cake. The open bar. The valet service.
Every single one was in my name. Every single one had been paid with my money.
And every single one had a clause I’d insisted on when I’d signed them: the right to cancel or modify the contract at any time, for any reason, with full decision-making authority over the event.
The vendors hadn’t questioned it. I was the one paying.
I picked up my phone again and started making calls.
It was going to be a long night.
By five in the morning, I’d spoken to every vendor.
The caterer understood immediately when I explained the situation. “Family drama is the worst,” she said. “We’ll be there with whatever you need.”
The florist was sympathetic. “I always thought the groom’s family seemed snobby,” she admitted.
The band leader just laughed. “I’ve played some interesting weddings. This might be the most memorable.”
I drove to the Bayfront Pavilion as the sun began to rise over the ocean. The sky was streaked with pink and orange, beautiful and indifferent to the chaos about to unfold.
Eleanor was waiting for me at the front entrance, her briefcase in hand. She looked tired but determined.
“I’ve reviewed the trust documents,” she said as we walked inside. “Everything is solid. The Pavilion is yours, free and clear. Any event held here requires your explicit written permission.”
The main hall was already being set up. White drapery hung from the ceiling. Rows of white chairs faced the large windows overlooking the bay. The floral arrangements were being carried in.
The event coordinator, Maria, spotted us and walked over.
“Mr. Bennett,” she said, smiling. “You’re here early. Everything is on schedule for the two o’clock ceremony.”
May you like
I looked around the beautiful hall. At the flowers that had cost me three thousand dollars. At the chairs that would seat people who didn’t want me there.
“Maria,” I said. “I need you to make some changes.”
