My Fiancé Defended the Woman Who Destroyed My Mother’s Hair—Then I Discovered What They Were Hiding

Rebecca hung up the phone and immediately locked her office door.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Outside her window, Atlanta traffic crawled through the afternoon rain. Inside, the old wall clock ticked so loudly that I could hear every second passing.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” I said.

Rebecca returned to her desk, opened her laptop, and typed something into a secure portal.

“The original trust document was stored with the estate's archival records. Access requires identification, a signed request, and verification from my office.””

“But someone took it.””

“Yes.””

“Using my name.””

She nodded grimly.

I gripped the arms of my chair.

“Then somebody forged my signature twice. Once to steal my property, and now to get my father's records.””

“Possibly the same person. But we won't assume that until we have evidence.””

I pulled out my phone and showed her Ethan's messages again.

Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.

Rebecca stared at the screen.

“Has Ethan ever mentioned a business relationship with your father?””

“Only that Dad once offered to invest in a construction project. Ethan said the deal fell through.””

“What kind of project?””

“He never explained. I didn't ask.””

Rebecca wrote something down.

“Sarah, I need you to understand something. If this involves a disputed business agreement, the lake property may not be the only asset someone is targeting.””

My phone vibrated.

This time, the message came from an unknown number.

Ask Rebecca about the missing four hundred thousand dollars.

I read it twice.

Then I turned the phone toward her.

Rebecca went completely still.

“Who sent that?”” she asked.

“I don't know.””

She took a screenshot of the message with her own phone.

“Don't reply.””

“What's the four hundred thousand dollars?””

Rebecca removed her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Your father invested money in a development company years ago. The investment was eventually returned, but there were questions about the final accounting.””

“Questions from whom?””

“Robert Collins.””

The name hung between us.

“Vanessa's uncle?””

“Yes. Robert claimed your father had withheld a portion of the profits. Your father denied it. The dispute became ugly, and both men retained attorneys.””

“Did they go to court?””

“No. They reached a private settlement.””

“Was Ethan involved?””

“Not according to the records I reviewed at the time.””

I leaned forward.

“Then why did Dad write his name beside Robert's and Vanessa's?””

Rebecca closed the laptop.

“That is exactly what I intend to find out.””

She called the archival office and requested the access records. While we waited, I contacted a locksmith to change the locks on my house and arranged for Mom to stay with me.

Then Rebecca gave me one final instruction.

“If Ethan contacts you, don't threaten him. Don't tell him what we know. Let him believe you're frightened and uncertain.””

I looked at the photograph of my father's handwritten note.

“I am frightened.””

“Good,” Rebecca said gently.

“Fear is a reasonable response to discovering that someone you trusted may have committed fraud. But don't let it make your decisions for you.””

An hour later, I was driving home when Ethan called again.

I answered on speakerphone.

“Sarah, thank God.””

His voice sounded breathless.

“Where are you?””

“On my way home.””

“Good. We need to talk face-to-face.””

“About the wedding?””

“About everything.””

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.

“You could start by explaining why your name is on a company trying to take my father's property.””

Silence.

Then he sighed.

“Vanessa showed you something, didn't she?””

“No. Emily did.””

“Emily has no idea what she's looking at.””

“Then explain it.””

“It's complicated, Sarah. Your father made some promises before he died. Promises that affected other people.””

“What promises?””

“I'll explain when I see you.””

“Why not now?””

“Because I don't want to do this over the phone.””

I heard a car horn in the background.

Then, faintly, a woman's voice.

Vanessa.

“Ethan, tell her about the trust!””

He covered the receiver, but not quickly enough.

My stomach dropped.

“Is Vanessa with you?””

“Sarah—”

“Is she?””

“Yes. We're trying to fix this.””

“Fix what? The forged signatures? The stolen document? Or the fact that you planned to humiliate my mother so I wouldn't notice you stealing my inheritance?””

He inhaled sharply.

“Don't use words you don't understand.””

That sentence settled something inside me.

The man who once promised to protect me was now trying to make me feel stupid for recognizing a crime.

“Don't come to my house,” I said.

“Sarah, please. You're making a terrible mistake.””

“No, Ethan. I made a mistake when I believed you.””

I ended the call.

My phone rang again almost immediately.

I ignored it.

When I reached my house, the front door was unlocked.

I was certain I'd locked it that morning.

I stepped inside carefully.

The living room looked normal. My father's old books were still on the shelves, and the framed photograph of my parents stood on the mantel.

Then I noticed the study door.

It was open.

I had closed it before leaving.

I walked toward the desk.

The drawers were pulled out. Papers covered the floor. Someone had opened the small fireproof safe beneath the desk, even though I hadn't given anyone the combination.

My father's watch was missing.

So was the envelope containing his handwritten letters to me.

I backed away and called the police.

While I waited outside, a black SUV pulled up across the street.

A man stepped out, glanced at my house, and lifted his phone to photograph me.

I recognized him from the engagement party.

Robert Collins.

Vanessa's uncle.

He lowered his phone, smiled without warmth, and drove away.

Then my own phone buzzed.