Chapter 3 - What Happened in Christina’s Apartment
I did not say “I do.”
Not yet.
When the officiant began speaking about commitment and trust, I interrupted him.
“Excuse me.”
Florence looked at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“I need five minutes.”
A murmur moved through the ballroom.
I addressed the guests.
“Please enjoy the champagne. We have a small issue to resolve.”
Florence grabbed my arm.
“Jonathan.”
“Five minutes.”
I led her toward a private reception room.
Martin followed.
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
I smiled.
“Stay with our guests.”
I entered the room alone and locked the door.
My laptop was already there.
I inserted the USB.
I searched hidden files.
One appeared.
E.P.
Password protected.
I typed:
ELIZABETH.
The folder opened.
Inside were photographs of Florence taken years before I met her.
My confusion deepened.
One showed her outside Prescott Development headquarters.
Another showed her at a charity event sponsored by my company.
The date was four years before Florence and I supposedly met by accident at an art fundraiser.
Then I found a scanned letter.
It was addressed to my late wife.
Dear Mrs. Prescott,
The writer claimed that her father had lost nearly everything after a failed development partnership involving one of Prescott’s former subsidiaries.
The letter blamed me personally.
At the bottom was a name.
Florence Fairmont.
I sat back.
Florence knew who I was.
Years before we met.
But that still didn’t explain Christina’s injuries.
I called her.
This time she answered.
“Dad.”
Hearing her voice nearly broke me.
“Christina.”
“I’m okay.”
“I’m coming to you.”
“No. Finish this.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“And Florence knows that’s your weakness.”
“My family isn’t a weakness.”
“You know what I mean.”
I closed my eyes.
“What happened last night?”
Christina exhaled.
“I found the first forged document three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“In your home office.”
“How?”
“You asked me to find Leo’s insurance paperwork. A folder had fallen behind the cabinet. It wasn’t yours.”
“Florence’s?”
“I think she hid it there temporarily.”
Christina had photographed every page.
Then she contacted Rebecca, who worked in forensic accounting.
Together, they traced the shell companies.
One led to Florence.
Another led to Martin.
“I wanted to tell you immediately,” Christina said.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I knew what you’d say.”
That hurt because I knew she was right.
I had defended Florence too many times.
“So you kept investigating.”
“Yes.”
“And Florence found out.”
“She came to my apartment yesterday.”
“What happened?”
Christina went quiet.
“Tell me.”
“She demanded the files.”
“And?”
“I refused.”
Florence initially tried persuasion.
She claimed the documents were part of legitimate estate planning.
Christina knew that was false.
Then Florence threatened her.
“She told me you would believe her over me.”
I stared at the wall.
“Would I have?”
Christina didn’t answer.
That silence was punishment enough.
“She reached for my laptop,” Christina continued. “I tried to stop her. She slapped me.”
My hand tightened.
“Then?”
“I pushed her away. She grabbed me. I fell backward and hit the coffee table.”
“Did you lose consciousness?”
“For a few seconds.”
“And she left you there?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca found Christina twenty minutes later.
Leo had been hiding in his bedroom.
He had heard everything.
That explained his fear.
“Dad, listen carefully. Florence thinks the USB was destroyed.”
“How?”
“She took my laptop and smashed the external drive.”
“But you made another copy.”
“Yes.”
“And gave it to Leo.”
“I knew Rebecca was bringing him to the wedding. Florence would search me. She’d suspect Rebecca. She would never suspect Leo.”
I looked through the window.
Florence was pacing outside.
“Why Elizabeth?”
“What?”
“The hidden-folder password.”
Christina became quiet.
“Because Mom was the reason I started questioning Florence.”
I frowned.
“What does your mother have to do with this?”
“Do you remember Mom keeping boxes of correspondence from the company?”
“Yes.”
“I found Florence’s letter.”
My eyes returned to the scanned page.
“Did Elizabeth answer?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“I included it.”
I searched.
There it was.
Elizabeth’s response.
My late wife had written Florence a compassionate letter explaining that I had not personally caused her father’s financial collapse and offering to arrange an independent review.
She even offered assistance.
Florence had never replied.
Christina said, “Dad, I don’t think this started as romance.”
“No.”
“I think it started as revenge.”
A knock sounded.
“Jonathan!”
Florence.
“We need to talk.”
I lowered my voice.
“Christina, stay with Rebecca.”
“Dad—”
“I love you.”
Silence.
Then:
“I love you too.”
I ended the call.
When I opened the door, Florence stood alone.
Her composure was cracking.
“What is happening?”
I studied her.
“I heard something disturbing.”
Her face stiffened.
“What?”
“Christina was injured last night.”
Florence blinked.
Then performed surprise perfectly.
“Oh my God.”
I almost admired it.
“What happened?”
“She fell.”
“How?”
“I thought you might know.”
The silence changed.
Florence stared at me.
Then her eyes moved to my pocket.
“Leo gave you something.”
Not a question.
I said nothing.
Her face lost color.
“What did he give you?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Jonathan.”
“What happened in Christina’s apartment?”
Florence stepped backward.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“She attacked me.”
I almost laughed.
“She recorded you.”
That ended the performance.
Her shoulders dropped.
Her eyes hardened.
“You watched it.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
She looked toward the exit.
I blocked it.
“Don’t.”
“You can’t keep me here.”
“I’m not keeping you anywhere.”
I stepped aside.
“You’re free to walk into that hallway.”
She looked suspicious.
Then the door opened behind her.
Evelyn Shaw entered.
Two police officers stood behind her.
Florence stopped breathing.
Evelyn held a folder.
“Ms. Fairmont, I believe we need to discuss several documents carrying my client’s forged signature.”
Florence looked at me.
The mask disappeared.
For the first time, I saw the person Christina had seen all along.
Cold.
Calculating.
Furious.
“You think you’ve won?” Florence whispered.
“I think my wedding is canceled.”
She smiled strangely.
“Your wedding is the least of your problems.”
Evelyn frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Florence looked directly at me.
“Ask your daughter what she didn’t put on the USB.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
“She found more than forged documents.”
“Florence.”
She leaned closer.
“There’s a reason Martin helped me.”
Then she said the sentence that opened an entirely new nightmare.
“Because Martin wasn’t stealing from you for me, Jonathan.”
May you like
Her smile returned.
“He was stealing from you long before I ever walked into your life.”
