Chapter 3: The Price of My Marriage
I don't remember sitting down.
One moment I was standing in my bedroom with my father's voice coming through a phone, and the next I was on the floor beside the dresser, gripping the edge of the rug while the room spun around me.
My fever was climbing.
Or maybe the truth was making me sick.
"Paid him?"" I repeated.
My father sighed on the other end of the call.
"Emily, I can explain.""
"Then explain it now.""
Daniel crouched in front of me.
"Please let me talk to him.""
I jerked away.
"You've had eight years to talk to me. You're finished.""
My mother stood near the window, twisting the towel between her hands. She looked smaller than I'd ever seen her, but I couldn't find any sympathy for her.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
I pressed the phone closer to my ear.
"Dad, did you pay Daniel to marry me?""
"Yes.""
The single word shattered the last piece of my marriage that I had been trying to protect.
I laughed once, without humor.
"How much?""
My father hesitated.
"That isn't the important part.""
"IT'S THE FIRST THING I WANT TO KNOW!""
"Five hundred thousand dollars.""
Daniel lowered his head.
I looked at him.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
That was more than I'd earned in several years of working long hours, saving carefully, and telling myself we were building a future together.
It was also more than enough to buy a stranger's devotion.
"Did you take it?"" I asked Daniel.
He didn't answer.
I stood, using the dresser for support.
"Did you take the money?""
"Yes," he whispered.
My mother began crying.
I turned on her.
"And you knew?""
She nodded.
"How long?""
"From the beginning.""
I stared at her, waiting for her to offer an explanation that would make the world sensible again.
Instead, she said, "Your father believed Daniel could protect you.""
I looked at the man who had kissed her in my bed.
"From what? My own husband?""
Daniel flinched.
My father spoke urgently through the phone.
"Emily, please listen. I didn't pay Daniel to hurt you. I paid him to keep you safe from people who believed you knew where the company records were hidden.""
"What records?""
"The original financial ledgers. Contracts. Bank transfers. Evidence of what happened to the construction company.""
I thought about the years after Dad's supposed death.
The phone calls from collection agencies. The threatening letters. The day I sat at Mom's kitchen table and helped her organize bills she claimed were left unpaid.
"Why would anyone think I had those records?""
"Because you were my daughter.""
"That makes no sense!""
"I know.""
His voice cracked, and for a moment I heard the father who used to sit beside my bed during thunderstorms.
"I made decisions I thought would protect you. Some of them were wrong.""
I wiped my cheeks.
"Why didn't you tell me you were alive?""
He didn't answer immediately.
"Because someone inside our family was helping the people who wanted me gone.""
My gaze moved to my mother.
She stopped crying.
Daniel stood slowly.
"Richard, don't do this over the phone.""
My father ignored him.
"Emily, the estate agreement you found is not the final agreement. The money listed there was only part of the assets. There's another trust, and you're the sole beneficiary.""
I stared at the paper.
"How much?""
"More than the amount you've seen.""
My mother whispered, "Richard, please.""
He continued.
"The trust was supposed to transfer to you on your thirty-fifth birthday, provided the original documents remained intact and no unauthorized changes were made.""
I did the math automatically.
My thirty-fifth birthday was four months away.
"Why Daniel?"" I asked again.
"Why did you choose him?""
"I met him through a business associate. He was working as a financial investigator. He understood the people involved and knew how to follow money without attracting attention.""
I looked at Daniel.
"You were investigating my father's company?""
"Yes.""
"And then you married me?""
"Yes.""
"Did you ever love me?""
His mouth opened, but no answer came.
That silence hurt more than the confession.
My father spoke softly.
"Emily, the agreement was that Daniel would stay close to you, protect you, and report any attempts to contact you from people connected to the company. He wasn't supposed to deceive you forever.""
I looked at my husband.
"At what point were you planning to stop deceiving me? Our tenth anniversary?""
Daniel's eyes shone.
"I was going to tell you.""
"When?""
"After everything was settled.""
"Everything has been settled for eight years. We bought a house. We adopted a dog.
We celebrated birthdays. You held my hand at my father's memorial service.""
I swallowed hard.
"You stood beside me while I cried over a man you knew was alive.""
Daniel's face crumpled.
"I thought I could make it right.""
"By sleeping with my mother?""
My mother stepped forward.
"That part was a mistake.""
I stared at her.
"A mistake is forgetting to pay a bill. A mistake is burning dinner. You climbed into my bed with my husband.""
She looked away.
Daniel finally spoke.
"The affair started six months ago.""
I felt something inside me go cold.
"Why?""
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Your mother came to me because she was frightened. She said someone had contacted her about the estate. We started meeting privately. One thing led to another.""
"You expect me to believe this happened because you were discussing paperwork?""
"No.""
"Good. Because I'm not stupid.""
My father interrupted.
"Emily, there's another reason I need you to leave that house.""
I turned toward the phone.
"What now?""
"The estate agreement you found has a signature that doesn't belong there.""
I looked down at the page.
My mother's name was printed beside the first beneficiary designation.
Daniel's name appeared beneath it.
But Dad was right. At the bottom of the final page, a signature had been added in dark blue ink.
Emily Thompson.
My signature.
Except I had never seen the document before.
My fingers began trembling again.
"Someone forged my name.""
"Yes," my father said.
"And that document was filed three weeks ago.""
Daniel stared at the paper.
For the first time since I had caught him with my mother, he looked genuinely terrified.
"That's impossible," he whispered.
I turned toward him.
"What did you do?""
He shook his head.
"I didn't sign that.""
"Then who did?""
My mother backed toward the bedroom door.
My father spoke before either of them could answer.
"Emily, listen carefully. The forgery is the least of your problems. Whoever filed that document wasn't trying to steal your inheritance.""
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"Then what were they trying to do?""
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"They were trying to make you legally responsible for the crime that put me in hiding.""
The call ended.
I stood frozen, staring at my forged signature.
Then someone knocked on the front door.
Three sharp knocks.
Daniel rushed toward the hallway.
My mother grabbed his wrist.
"Don't open it.""
I looked between them.
"Who is it?""
Nobody answered.
The knocking came again.
Then a man's voice echoed through the house.
"Emily Thompson? This is Detective Harris with the Atlanta Police Department. We need to speak with you about the disappearance of Richard Thompson.""
I looked at Daniel.
He looked at my mother.
May you like
And my mother whispered the words that made my blood turn to ice.
"They've found the body.""
