Chapter 4: The Groom's Father Wasn't the Only One Being Betrayed
For several seconds, I couldn't take my eyes off the photograph on Michael Bennett's phone.
Edward Mitchell stood outside the bank's private safe deposit room, wearing the same charcoal suit he'd worn in the engagement photographs Vanessa had shown me months earlier.
The timestamp read 10:42 a.m.
Our wedding ceremony had begun at eleven.
He'd been trying to access my father's safe while guests were arriving at the church.
"That's impossible," Vanessa whispered.
"My father was at the hotel this morning.""
Michael lowered the phone.
"According to the bank, he presented identification and a key that didn't match the registered access credentials. When the clerk refused him entry, he demanded to speak to the branch manager.""
"Then he left?"" I asked.
"Not immediately. He made a phone call first.""
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Who did he call?""
"The bank hasn't identified the number yet.""
Patricia sank into a nearby chair.
"Oh, Edward. What have you done?""
Vanessa spun toward her mother.
"You knew he was doing something today?""
"No!""
"Then why are you acting like this?""
Patricia pressed her fingers against her forehead.
"Because your father has been terrified for months. He barely sleeps anymore. He checks the locks three times before going to bed, and every time the telephone rings, he looks like someone has announced his execution.""
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?""
"Because he told me everything would be resolved before the wedding.""
Dad gave a bitter laugh.
"Edward has been promising to resolve things for twenty years.""
The words silenced her.
I turned toward him.
"Dad, how much of this have you known?""
He looked down at his hands.
"Enough to suspect Edward had been hiding something. Not enough to prove it.""
"Then why wait until today?""
"Because I wanted to give you the truth without dragging you into a fight between two families.""
He looked toward Vanessa.
"I thought your marriage would be a fresh beginning. I hoped Edward would finally do the right thing.""
Vanessa shook her head.
"This is ridiculous. My father built his company from nothing. He wouldn't steal from you.""
Dad met her gaze.
"I gave him the money to build it.""
"He worked hard!""
"So did I.""
"He had employees to pay! Buildings to construct! Risks to take!""
"And I had a son to raise after my wife died.""
His voice never rose, but something in it made Vanessa stop.
"Your father asked me for help when his company was struggling. I sold investments I'd spent years accumulating. Your mother and I had saved that money for our retirement, but Edward was my friend. I trusted him.""
Dad paused.
"He promised to repay every dollar.""
Patricia began crying harder.
I remembered being a teenager and watching Dad sit at our kitchen table late at night, studying bills beneath a yellow lamp. I'd assumed he was simply being careful with money.
Now I wondered how many sleepless nights he'd spent protecting a man who might have been stealing from him.
Michael opened his briefcase and removed a document.
"Richard, there's another issue. The foreclosure notice includes a reference to a personal guarantee. It appears someone has attempted to connect your signature to the loan.""
Dad took the paper.
The moment he saw the signature, his expression changed.
"That's not my signature.""
Michael nodded.
"I suspected as much.""
Vanessa stepped closer.
"Are you saying someone forged it?""
"I'm saying the document requires a forensic examination before anyone can make that determination.""
Dad handed the paper back.
"Get it examined.""
"I will.""
"And contact the bank. Nobody accesses that safe without my authorization.""
Michael nodded, then glanced at the silver key.
"There's something you should know about the safe, Richard. Your ownership agreement isn't the only document stored there.""
Dad looked up sharply.
"What else?""
Michael hesitated.
"Your late wife's instructions.""
My breath caught.
"My mother?""
Dad's fingers tightened around the blanket over his knees.
"What instructions?""
Michael opened another compartment in his briefcase.
"Your wife deposited a sealed envelope with our firm shortly before she died. She instructed us to keep it with the original ownership records and deliver it to you if Edward Mitchell ever attempted to claim an interest in your properties.""
Dad stared at him.
"Margaret did that?""
"Yes.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because she specifically requested that the envelope remain sealed unless the condition was met.""
I felt as though the floor had shifted beneath us.
My mother had been dead for more than a decade. Yet she'd anticipated a day when Edward might come after my father's property.
Vanessa backed away from the table.
"This is insane. You're all making my father sound like some criminal mastermind.""
"No one has convicted your father of anything," Michael replied.
"We're trying to establish what happened.""
"Then stop treating him like a criminal!""
She snatched her purse from the chair.
"I'm calling him.""
Patricia grabbed her wrist.
"Vanessa, don't.""
"Let go of me!""
"Please. You don't understand what he's capable of when he's cornered.""
Vanessa stared at her mother.
For the first time that evening, her anger gave way to genuine fear.
"What does that mean?""
Patricia opened her mouth.
Then she looked toward the ballroom entrance.
A man in a black suit was standing there.
He wasn't a guest. He wasn't hotel staff.
He was watching our table.
When I noticed him, he immediately turned away and walked toward the elevators.
Michael followed my gaze.
"Do you know that man?""
I shook my head.
Dad, however, looked as though he'd seen a ghost.
"Richard?"" I asked.
He gripped his wheelchair's armrests.
"That's one of Edward's security contractors.""
Michael immediately pulled out his phone.
"What's his name?""
"Frank Dawson," Dad answered.
"He used to work at the construction company.""
Vanessa looked between them.
"Why would my father send Frank here?""
Nobody answered.
Then Michael's phone buzzed.
He read the message, and the color drained from his face.
"What is it?"" I demanded.
He turned the screen toward Dad.
It was a notification from the bank's security department.
*An unauthorized attempt had just been made to cancel the safe deposit box's access authorization.*
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Someone was trying to lock my father out of his own safe.
And the request had been submitted under my name.
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