Chapter 6 - The Guest Who Knew Too Much
I looked at Rachel.
She had no idea what I'd just heard.
At least, if she did, she hid it well.
"Who was that?" she asked.
I lowered the phone.
"Wrong number."
Thomas watched me.
He knew I was lying.
I waited until Rachel stepped outside with an agent before telling the others.
Claire Vale went completely still.
"What exactly did she say?"
"Don't trust Rachel."
Emily frowned.
"Could Grant be trying to divide us?"
"Probably."
Rebecca shook her head.
"That's what he'd want."
Thomas didn't answer.
I noticed.
"You know something."
He looked toward the window.
"Rachel's full name?"
"Rachel Monroe."
His eyes sharpened.
"Mother's maiden name?"
"I don't know."
I thought.
"Whitmore."
Rebecca dropped the flash drive.
The sound was tiny.
But everyone heard it.
"What?"
She looked at me.
"Sarah's last name was Whitmore."
My stomach dropped.
"No."
Rebecca stood.
"Rachel's mother?"
"Linda."
Rebecca looked close to fainting.
"My aunt's name is Linda."
I stared.
"You and Rachel are related?"
"If it's the same Linda."
The farmhouse door opened.
Rachel entered.
She saw our faces.
"What happened?"
Rebecca stepped forward.
"Your mother is Linda Whitmore?"
Rachel froze.
That was enough.
I whispered, "Rachel?"
She closed the door.
"Claire, I can explain."
The floor seemed to tilt.
"How long have you known?"
"About Sarah?"
"About Grant."
Rachel's eyes filled.
"Before you met him."
I stepped backward.
My best friend.
Maid of honor.
The person who helped me leave the wedding.
She had known.
"Why?"
"Because I was watching him."
"For Rebecca?"
"No."
Rachel looked at Rebecca.
"For Sarah."
Rebecca stared.
Rachel continued.
"My mother and Sarah were half sisters. I grew up hearing that Sarah died in an accident. Then, five years ago, Mom told me she believed the Mercer family was involved."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because when you met Grant, I didn't know whether it was coincidence."
"And when you did know?"
Her silence hurt more than an answer.
"Rachel."
"I thought if I confronted you, he'd isolate you faster."
"So you stayed close."
"Yes."
"You stood beside me at my wedding."
"I was trying to get proof."
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
"You let me marry him to get proof?"
"No."
She stepped toward me.
"I begged you to postpone."
That was true.
Rachel had complained about how fast everything moved.
I had called her protective.
Jealous, once.
Grant had loved that.
"He told me you didn't like him because you were lonely."
Rachel winced.
"I know."
I sat down.
Trust had become impossible.
Every person had secrets.
My father.
Emily.
Thomas.
Rachel.
Maybe everyone.
Claire Vale spoke.
"Rachel is not bride number three."
I looked up.
"Then who is?"
Claire pulled a photograph from her file.
A woman standing beside Grant at a charity gala.
Blonde.
Elegant.
Late twenties.
I recognized her immediately.
"That's Madeline."
Grant's executive assistant.
"She wasn't his assistant," Claire said.
"Not originally."
"What was she?"
"His wife."
I stared.
Madeline Cross had arranged my wedding schedule.
She booked our honeymoon.
She personally delivered my marriage license documents.
She had smiled at me the morning of the ceremony and said:
You're the best thing that's ever happened to him.
My stomach twisted.
"When?"
"Three years ago."
"What happened?"
"She never left."
"What does that mean?"
"Grant didn't discard her. He converted her."
I hated the word.
Claire explained.
Madeline had no family money.
No inheritance.
But she had something Grant valued.
Loyalty.
After their relationship ended, Patricia gave her a job.
She became part of the operation.
She helped organize Grant's later targets.
Including me.
"The dress fittings," I whispered.
Claire nodded.
"The legal documents."
"She had access to everything."
"Yes."
Thomas looked at his phone.
"We need to find her."
Federal agents attempted.
Madeline's apartment was empty.
Her car abandoned.
Phone off.
Then we realized something worse.
She had been at the wedding.
And after I left, she'd disappeared.
Emily asked, "What would she take?"
I knew.
"The marriage certificate."
Everyone turned.
"She handled the final filing."
Thomas cursed.
"If it hasn't been filed..."
"What?"
"Grant could manipulate the record."
I almost laughed.
"Good. Let him erase the marriage."
Thomas shook his head.
"Not that simple. He may alter dates or documents tied to asset agreements."
I remembered a stack of papers I'd signed before the ceremony.
Vendor forms.
Insurance.
Venue paperwork.
Grant had rushed me.
Madeline had placed tabs everywhere.
"Did I sign something I shouldn't have?"
Thomas looked grim.
"Possibly."
We contacted my attorney.
He reviewed digital copies.
Most were harmless.
Then he found one.
A spousal property authorization.
My signature.
Grant's signature.
Notarized.
I stared at it.
"I never signed this."
The signature looked perfect.
Forged.
The document authorized transfer of my grandmother's land upon legal marriage.
Had the marriage certificate been filed, Grant could attempt the transfer.
Thomas said, "They need the certificate."
So did we.
Madeline had it.
Then a message arrived.
From Madeline.
To me.
One sentence.
I HAVE THE ORIGINAL.
A location followed.
The wedding venue.
Midnight.
Rachel said, "Absolutely not."
I looked at the message.
"She wants to meet."
"Or Grant wants you there."
Thomas agreed.
But federal agents could set surveillance.
At 11:50 p.m., I returned to the ballroom.
For the first time since walking out.
The room had been cleaned.
No cake.
No petals.
No guests.
The place looked innocent again.
Madeline stood beside the empty cake table.
Black coat.
Blonde hair pulled back.
She held a folder.
"Claire."
I stopped twenty feet away.
Agents listened remotely.
"You knew."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Everything?"
"Enough."
"Why help him?"
Her eyes filled.
"Because leaving isn't always one moment."
I understood that sentence immediately.
She had never escaped.
She had simply changed roles.
"Why give me the certificate?"
"Because you did what I couldn't."
"What?"
"You walked out while everyone was watching."
She looked around the ballroom.
"He humiliated me here too."
"Here?"
"Different event. Same room."
She handed me the folder.
Inside was the original marriage license.
And something else.
A handwritten ledger.
Patricia's.
Names.
Payments.
Judges.
Attorneys.
Doctors.
Police officers.
The network.
"This can destroy them," Madeline said.
"Why now?"
"Because Grant told Lucas to take care of you."
My blood went cold.
"What does that mean?"
"You know."
She looked toward the ballroom doors.
Then whispered, "We don't have much time."
Agents moved closer outside.
I asked, "Will you testify?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Yes."
A sound came from behind the stage.
Madeline froze.
"Did your agents come inside?"
"No."
Her face changed.
"Then we're not alone."
The lights went out.
Emergency lights glowed red.
I heard footsteps.
Madeline grabbed my hand.
"Run."
We moved toward the kitchen.
A shadow crossed the far doorway.
Then another.
Agents shouted from outside.
The main doors had been electronically locked.
Madeline pulled me into a service corridor.
"This way."
"How do you know?"
"I worked every Mercer event."
We reached a stairwell.
She opened the door.
Stopped.
Someone stood below us.
Lucas.
He looked up.
"Madeline."
She stepped in front of me.
Lucas smiled.
"I wondered when you'd finally grow a conscience."
Behind him, Grant appeared.
My heart stopped.
He was supposed to be under investigation.
Free, apparently.
And furious.
His eyes locked onto me.
No smile this time.
"Claire."
Madeline whispered, "Go."
I backed toward the hallway.
Grant started climbing.
"You have something that belongs to me."
I held the folder tighter.
"No."
Lucas smiled.
"That's the problem with brides."
He took another step.
"They always think the ceremony makes them part of the family."
Then a voice behind me said:
"Claire, give me the folder."
I turned.
May you like
Rachel stood there.
Holding a gun.
