A Friend Who Knew Too Much
Chapter 02 - A Friend Who Knew Too Much
The man with the phone was Jonah Reyes, the event coordinator who had been helping Mom organize weddings and concerts at the conservatory for almost five years. He wasn't rich. He rarely spoke unless someone asked him a question. His brown hair was permanently messy, and he kept peppermint candies in his jacket pocket for anxious flower girls.
I'd always liked him. That night, I was grateful to see one familiar person whose expression held neither pity nor calculation.
"Audrey," he said, "I think you should hear this privately."
Daniel stepped between us. "This is a private family matter."
"It's her wedding," Jonah said. "She can decide."
Celeste was wiping cake from her eyes. "That recording's illegal."
I looked toward her. "What recording?"
Nobody answered.
A frightening possibility formed. The overturned chocolate pot hadn't been a drunken prank. Celeste had crossed a polished floor carrying a heavy catering vessel she had no reason to touch. She had looked directly at me before pushing it. Then she'd spoken to Daniel as though they had rehearsed the moment.
"Play it," I told Jonah.
He hesitated, looking toward the gathered guests. "Somebody sent it to me anonymously fifteen minutes ago. I don't know if it's authentic."
"Then let me hear it."
He held out his phone. The sound was faint but clear enough. Celeste's voice came first: "If she refuses to sign after the ceremony, we need the public breakdown. Daniel can tell everyone she isn't fit to run the property."
A man's voice replied: "The buyers won't wait."
I knew that voice. I had listened to it whisper good night against my hair for fourteen months.
Daniel.
The recording ended. I stared at the phone. One clip couldn't prove everything, but it explained the first sickening piece of the evening.
"Where did this come from?" I asked.
Jonah shook his head. "An address I didn't recognize. I saved the original message."
Mom guided me into the little preparation room behind the conservatory. The room smelled of roses and steamed fabric. My bouquet lay abandoned beside a mirror.
I watched my reflection. Brown streaks ran from my waist to the hem of the dress. At that moment I was absurdly worried about the stains, as though restoring the gown could restore the marriage.
"Did you know?" I asked Mom.
"I was suspicious of the papers," she said. "Not of him. Not until this afternoon."
"What happened this afternoon?"
She reached inside her purse and brought out a letter from the bank. Someone had requested information about refinancing the conservatory using documentation that included my name, though I had made no such request.
My stomach dropped.
"Daniel said it was only a routine title update," I whispered.
Mom touched my shoulder. "Your father always said: when someone rushes you, ask what the hurry protects."
Outside, Celeste began shouting that we were ruining her reputation.
I stared at the wedding ring on my hand. I hadn't yet signed the marriage certificate, and I wasn't going to. But I had signed other things. Forms Daniel said would simplify ownership after the wedding. Suddenly every signature felt dangerous.
May you like
"I need the folder he gave me," I said.
Mom nodded. "And you need to stop trusting anyone who tells you there isn't time to read it."
