Chapter 8 - The Family Story
The police separated us.
One officer questioned Vivian.
Another spoke with Ethan and me near the dance floor while paramedics took Richard out on a stretcher.
The wedding had become a crime scene without anyone officially calling it one.
Guests stood in clusters.
The string quartet had stopped playing.
The cake lights were still glowing.
It was surreal.
Officer Lena Brooks asked me exactly what I saw.
I told her everything.
The clutch.
The glass.
The cloudy thread.
The waiter.
The medical certification.
The altered prenup.
Her expression grew more serious with each detail.
“Do you still have the paper agreement?”
“Yes.”
“Do not let it out of your possession.”
Vivian was twenty feet away, speaking calmly to another officer.
Martin Cole had suddenly reappeared.
He stood beside her.
Of course he did.
Ethan noticed him.
He walked straight across the ballroom.
“Where have you been?”
Martin adjusted his glasses. “Handling calls.”
“You changed the prenup.”
Martin blinked. “Excuse me?”
“The physical version names my mother as fiduciary. The digital version doesn’t.”
Martin’s face stayed smooth.
“That sounds like a document control issue.”
Ethan stared at him.
“Document control?”
“Yes.”
“My father is in an ambulance.”
“And that is exactly why everyone should avoid making reckless accusations.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you file a proxy request for my Meridian shares?”
Martin looked at me.
“No.”
“Someone did.”
“Then your company should investigate.”
Ethan said, “The receiving party was Whitmore Family Holdings.”
Martin’s jaw tightened.
Only a little.
Officer Brooks approached.
“Mr. Cole, I’d like you to remain here.”
Martin gave her a professional smile.
“Am I being detained?”
“No.”
“Then I have obligations to my clients.”
“Which clients?”
He looked at Vivian.
That told me enough.
Then Rachel came running toward us with her phone in hand.
“Claire.”
Her face was pale.
“What?”
“I found something.”
She turned the screen toward me.
A photograph.
Taken six months ago at a private restaurant.
Vivian.
Martin.
Dr. Hart.
And a fourth person.
My chief financial officer, Neil Parker.
My stomach dropped.
“What is Neil doing with them?”
Rachel swiped.
Another photo.
Neil leaving the Whitmore family office.
Another.
Neil and Martin at a downtown parking garage.
Ethan looked at me.
“How long has this been happening?”
I could barely answer.
“Apparently longer than our engagement.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Neil.
Claire, do not sign anything tonight. Get away from the Whitmores now.
I stared at it.
A second message arrived.
I should have told you months ago.
May you like
And then a third.
They know you saw the champagne.
