Chapter 4: The Lie About My Father
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The hotel room seemed to shrink around us. The air conditioner hummed, a car horn sounded somewhere below, and Michael stood near the window with his phone still pressed against his ear.
I looked at him.
"Who submitted the request?""
"The venue manager doesn't know yet. They're checking the authorization records.""
"Was it Vanessa?""
"Probably.""
"Probably isn't good enough.""
Michael lowered his phone.
"Emma, the request came through the wedding planning account. It included a document claiming your father had been investigated for financial fraud.""
My throat tightened.
"My father wasn't a criminal.""
"I know.""
"No, Michael. You don't understand. My father was a mechanic.
He owned a small garage in Ohio. He worked six days a week, came home smelling of motor oil, and spent Sunday mornings fixing things for elderly neighbours who couldn't afford repairs.""
My voice cracked.
"He wasn't some criminal.""
Daniel moved closer.
"Emma, nobody here believes that.""
I looked at the document photograph again.
My father's name was written at the top.
Beneath it were details about an alleged investigation involving a company called Collins Property Holdings.
I'd never heard of that company.
"Who sent the document?"" I asked.
Michael checked his phone.
"The venue manager forwarded it to me. They received it as an attachment.""
"Can I see the original?""
He handed me his phone.
The document was three pages long.
It claimed that my father had been connected to a property investment scheme involving fraudulent loan applications and undisclosed assets.
There was even a reference number.
But the more I read, the stranger it became.
My father's date of birth was wrong.
His middle initial was wrong.
And the address listed beside his name belonged to a property in New Jersey.
My father had never lived in New Jersey.
"These details are fabricated," I said.
Daniel looked over my shoulder.
"Can you prove that?""
"Yes.""
I opened my phone and searched for the old funeral programme I'd saved years ago.
His date of birth was printed on the inside cover.
I showed it to Daniel.
"See?""
He nodded.
"That's different.""
"Everything is different.""
Michael studied the document.
"Whoever created this had some information about your family, but they didn't do their homework.""
I looked at the final page.
A handwritten instruction had been added at the bottom.
*Present this to the groom before the vows. Do not allow the bride to explain first.*
My hands began trembling.
"She wants to humiliate me in front of everyone.""
Daniel took the phone.
"She won't get the chance.""
He immediately called the venue manager.
"Richard, this is Daniel Hayes. I need you to cancel every unauthorized change to tomorrow's ceremony. Every single one.""
He listened.
"No, don't just remove Vanessa's access. Remove every request submitted through the wedding planning account until you speak directly with Emma or me.""
Another pause.
"And I want security at the ceremony entrance. Nobody gets backstage without identification.""
He ended the call.
I looked at him.
"Daniel, what if she has already sent this to people?""
"Then we'll deal with it.""
"What if she sends it to my family?""
"Then we'll tell them the truth.""
"What if she stands in front of everyone and says—"
"Emma.""
He took both my hands.
"Look at me.""
I did.
"I am not marrying a document. I'm marrying you.""
My eyes filled.
"I know.""
"Do you?""
I nodded.
He kissed my forehead.
Then Michael cleared his throat.
"There's another problem.""
I turned.
"What now?""
He showed me his phone.
"The wedding planner is on her way here.""
"Patricia?""
"Yes. She says she has no idea how anyone accessed her account.""
I looked at Daniel.
"Bring her here.""
At 4:10 a.m., Patricia Lawson arrived wearing a navy coat over her pyjamas.
She was in her late fifties, with short silver hair and a habit of speaking quickly when she was nervous.
The moment she entered the room, she looked at me.
"Emma, sweetheart, what happened?""
I placed the printed access report on the table.
"Did you authorize Vanessa to enter my room?""
Patricia frowned.
"Absolutely not.""
"Did you request a master key at 1:42?""
"No.""
"Did you submit a change to the wedding ceremony arrangements?""
Her face drained.
"No.""
I watched her carefully.
"Someone used your account.""
Patricia took the report and read it.
"Oh, my God.""
She sat down.
"I didn't approve any of this.""
"How did Vanessa get access?""
Patricia rubbed her forehead.
"She had my login details for the vendor portal.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"She was helping coordinate the final arrangements. I gave her limited access to the seating chart and supplier confirmations.""
"Limited access?""
Patricia nodded.
"She wasn't supposed to have permission to modify security requests or ceremony authorizations.""
Michael folded his arms.
"Apparently, she did.""
Patricia looked genuinely horrified.
"I trusted her. She was your maid of honour.""
I almost laughed.
That sentence was becoming the explanation for everything.
"Did you ever send her documents about my family?"" I asked.
"No. Never.""
"What about financial information?""
Patricia shook her head.
"Emma, I don't even have that information.""
I placed the photograph of the fraudulent document in front of her.
"Someone prepared this.""
She studied it.
Then she pointed at a small logo in the bottom corner.
"Wait.""
"What?""
"This is from a property management company.""
I leaned forward.
"Which one?""
"Northbridge Residential.""
The name meant nothing to me.
But Patricia seemed troubled.
"Why would Vanessa have access to something like this?""
I looked at Daniel.
He was already searching the company name.
After a minute, he turned his phone toward us.
"Northbridge Residential is connected to a property group in Pennsylvania.""
"Connected how?"" Michael asked.
Daniel scrolled.
"Their website lists a former director named Richard Reed.""
Patricia frowned.
"Reed?""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Vanessa's father?""
Daniel nodded.
"Same surname. Same town.""
Patricia leaned closer.
"Does Vanessa have anything to do with the company?""
Daniel continued reading.
"She worked there for almost two years.""
I looked at the document.
"Why would her former employer have information about my father?""
Nobody answered.
Then Daniel found something.
"There's a public filing.""
He enlarged the screen.
A company named Collins Property Holdings appeared in a list of disputed transactions.
I felt sick.
"My father never owned a property company.""
Daniel kept reading.
"Emma, this filing is from last year.""
"What?""
"It says the company was registered eleven months ago.""
I stared at him.
"That's after my father died.""
Michael leaned over his shoulder.
"Who registered it?""
Daniel scrolled to the next page.
The listed director was Richard Reed.
Vanessa's father.
Silence filled the room.
I looked at Patricia.
Then at Daniel.
"She didn't just invent a story about my father.""
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"She used his name to create a company.""
"And now she's trying to make me look like I knew about it.""
Patricia covered her mouth.
"Why would she do that?""
I looked at the three pages spread across the table.
Because if Daniel believed I had hidden something this serious, he might cancel the wedding himself.
And Vanessa would be standing beside him when he did.
But there was something else.
Something much worse.
The document included a reference to a bank account.
An account that supposedly belonged to my father.
And beneath it was a partial account number.
I recognized the final four digits.
My father's old savings account.
The one he'd left to me.
I stood so abruptly that the chair scraped against the floor.
"That's impossible.""
Daniel turned.
"What?""
"That account was closed after his death.""
"Are you sure?""
"Yes. I closed it myself. The bank transferred the remaining balance to my account.""
I reached for my handbag.
My father's old paperwork was in a folder I'd brought for the wedding.
I pulled it out and searched through the documents.
The closure confirmation was still there.
The date.
The bank stamp.
The account number.
I placed it beside the fraudulent report.
The numbers matched.
My hands went cold.
Someone had obtained information from a private banking document.
I looked at Patricia.
"Who has had access to my wedding folder?""
She shook her head.
"Only you.""
I looked at Daniel.
He didn't speak.
Then Michael said, "Emma, where did you keep that folder last night?""
"In my room.""
"Before that?""
I thought.
"The planning office. Patricia asked me to bring the documents when we reviewed the seating arrangements.""
Patricia nodded slowly.
"That was two weeks ago.""
"And who was there?""
"Me, you, Vanessa, and the venue coordinator.""
I closed the folder.
Vanessa had been there.
She had seen everything.
My phone vibrated.
A new message from the unknown number.
*Don't confront her about Northbridge yet. She isn't working alone.*
A second message followed.
*Ask Patricia who paid for the extra bridal suite.*
I looked up.
"What extra bridal suite?""
Patricia's expression changed.
She glanced at Daniel.
Then at Michael.
May you like
Finally, she whispered:
"Vanessa.""
