We left the cathedral through a side entrance.
No photographs.
No congratulations.
No reception line.
Just cold air and a parking lot full of cars.
Lisa sat in the back seat beside Megan.
Brandon drove.
I sat beside him in the front.
For several minutes, none of us spoke.
The silence was not angry.
It was exhausted.
Finally Brandon said, “I need to tell you something.”
I looked at him.
“So do I.”
He nodded.
“Then you first.”
I looked out the window.
“No.”
He glanced at me.
“Why?”
“Because I don't know what your mother found.”
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“Neither do I.”
“Then maybe we should find out.”
He nodded.
At the hotel, we gathered in the suite.
Megan brought coffee.
Lisa changed out of her dress and curled up on the sofa with her stuffed rabbit.
Brandon placed the phone from the wedding dress on the table.
He had already taken photographs of everything on it.
The messages.
The investigator's reports.
The payments.
The names.
He looked at me.
“There are things here about your past.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
I nodded.
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
I hesitated.
“Enough.”
He sat across from me.
“Emily, what is in the blue folder?”
My heart stopped.
Megan looked at me.
She knew.
Brandon noticed.
“You both know about it?”
Megan shook her head.
“I know there is a folder. I don't know what's inside.”
Brandon looked back at me.
“Why did you never tell me?”
I stood.
I walked to my suitcase.
I opened the front compartment.
Beneath a sweater was a thin blue folder.
I carried it to the table.
Brandon stared at it.
“What is that?”
“The reason your mother has been trying to destroy this marriage.”
He did not touch it.
“Open it.”
I did.
The first page was a court document.
The second was a bank statement.
The third was an old newspaper clipping.
Brandon looked at me.
“I don't understand.”
“You will.”
I turned another page.
There was a photograph.
A man standing beside a car.
Brandon frowned.
“Who is that?”
“My ex-husband.”
He looked at me.
“You told me he died.”
“He did.”
“Then why is he in this folder?”
“Because your mother believes he left something behind.”
Brandon leaned forward.
I placed the next document on the table.
“He didn't leave me money.”
“What did he leave?”
“Debt.”
Brandon stared at the papers.
“And the bank statements?”
“I spent years paying off what he owed.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because it was finished.”
He looked at me.
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why would my mother care?”
I closed the folder.
“Because she thinks the debt wasn't the real story.”
Brandon's expression changed.
“What does she think?”
“She thinks my ex-husband stole money from your family's company.”
Silence.
Brandon leaned back.
“My mother told you that?”
“No.”
“Then how?”
“Because I found the evidence.”
I opened the folder again.
There was an old corporate ledger.
Several transfers were marked.
Different names.
Different accounts.
But the same dates.
Brandon studied them.
“This is Sterling Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“My father signed these?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
I pointed to a name.
Barbara's name.
Brandon stared at it.
“No.”
“I didn't put it there.”
He read the page again.
The transfers were small enough to avoid attention.
But they happened repeatedly.
Over several years.
He turned another page.
There were copies of correspondence.
A lawyer's letter.
A bank notice.
A settlement agreement.
Brandon's face became pale.
“Why would she do this?”
“I don't know.”
He looked at me.
“You do.”
“I have a theory.”
“Tell me.”
I closed the folder.
“She wanted to keep control of the family trust.”
Brandon sat silently.
Megan spoke.
“Emily, there is something else.”
“What?”
“The phone.”
She picked it up.
“There are files that haven't been opened.”
Brandon unlocked it.
One folder contained recordings.
Another contained photographs.
The newest file had been created two days earlier.
He played it.
Barbara's voice filled the room.
“I told you she would marry him.”
A man's voice answered.
“I still don't understand what you want.”
“I want Brandon to leave her.”
“And if he doesn't?”
Barbara paused.
“Then we use the evidence.”
Brandon stopped the recording.
He stared at the phone.
“Who is that man?”
“I don't know.”
He played the rest.
The man's voice said, “You could destroy her.”
Barbara replied, “That is the point.”
Lisa stirred on the sofa.
We lowered our voices.
The recording continued.
Barbara mentioned the blue folder.
She knew about it.
She wanted it.
She believed it contained evidence that could ruin her.
Brandon looked at me.
“You carried this to your wedding?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew she might try something.”
He shook his head.
“Why didn't you trust me?”
I looked at him.
“I did.”
“Then why?”
“Because every time I told you something about your mother, you explained it away.”
He flinched.
I immediately regretted saying it.
But it was true.
“I wasn't trying to hurt you,” I said.
“I know.”
“I was trying to protect Lisa.”
“I know.”
He looked down.
Then he reached across the table.
His hand found mine.
“I should have listened.”
I squeezed his fingers.
Before either of us could say more, someone knocked.
Megan answered.
A police officer stood outside.
He asked for me.
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
He looked at the folder.
“Are you Emily Sterling?”
“Yes.”
“I need to speak with you.”
Brandon stood.
“She is not going anywhere alone.”
The officer looked at him.
“That's fine.”
We entered the hallway.
Another officer stood beside the elevator.
The first officer spoke quietly.
“There has been a complaint.”
“Against me?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Property damage.”
I stared at him.
“What property?”
He looked at Brandon.
“Mrs. Sterling's home.”
Brandon frowned.
“My mother's?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Approximately two hours ago.”
I looked at the officer.
“I was at the cathedral.”
“We know.”
“Then why are you here?”
The officer hesitated.
“Because the security footage shows someone wearing your clothing entering the property.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
He showed me a photograph.
A woman in a dark coat.
From behind.
Same height.
Same hair.
Same dress.
But I knew immediately.
“That isn't me.”
The officer nodded.
“We're not saying it is.”
Brandon stared at the photograph.
“Then who?”
The officer looked at me.
“That is what we are trying to determine.”
He handed me a second photograph.
This one showed the woman entering Barbara's study.
A minute later, the alarm was triggered.
The officer continued.
“Several documents were taken.”
“What documents?”
He looked at the blue folder.
“We don't know yet.”
Brandon's eyes moved to mine.
The officer asked, “Do you know anyone who might have access to your clothing or personal belongings?”
I thought of the wedding dress.
The tailor.
The garment bag.
Barbara.
Then something else occurred to me.
The hotel.
Someone had entered our room while we were at the cathedral.
I ran inside.
Our suitcase was open.
The blue folder was gone.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Folder Disappeared Before the Police Could Question Me, Leaving One Question Nobody Wanted to Ask About the Woman in the Photograph
I Thought I Was Marrying Into a Family, Until One Strange Package Arrived and Made Me Question What They Were Really Planning
Part 6 of 15
