Chapter 4 - THE HONEYMOON THAT NEVER HAPPENEDI told Marcus to turn the limousine around.
Dark shelves climbed toward the ceiling.
The wedding music became distant behind thick wooden doors.
He didn't waste time.
“Grant told us Bennett Strategic had already approved the Riverpoint financing.”
I stared at him.
“We haven't.”
“I suspected as much.”
“When did he tell you this?”
“Monday.”
Three days earlier.
Arthur reached into his jacket and removed his phone.
He opened an email.
Grant had written it.
The language was polished.
Confident.
Bennett Strategic has committed to the senior funding package. Final signatures are administrative.
My stomach sank.
That wasn't exaggeration.
It was misrepresentation.
Potentially fraud.
Arthur watched my reaction.
“So it's false?”
“Completely.”
His jaw tightened.
“My company committed forty million based partially on that representation.”
“Have you transferred anything?”
“Ten million earnest capital.”
I looked toward the closed doors.
From beyond them came applause and laughter.
Grant was celebrating his wedding less than fifty yards away while one of the most important transactions of his career began unraveling.
“Arthur, don't confront him yet.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“You're protecting him?”
“No.”
I thought of my children.
Of the guests.
Of Victoria in her wedding gown.
Whatever I felt about her, I wasn't going to turn a wedding reception into a financial crime scene unless absolutely necessary.
“I want facts first.”
Arthur nodded slowly.
“You really are different from what he described.”
I wasn't surprised.
“What did he say?”
“That you were emotional. Reckless. Bad with money.”
I laughed once.
Arthur looked embarrassed.
“I take it that wasn't accurate.”
“Grant once asked me whether a balance sheet showed how much money was currently sitting in the company's checking account.”
Arthur stared.
Then he laughed.
Hard.
It was the first genuine laugh I'd heard all afternoon.
“Good Lord.”
“Exactly.”
We agreed to speak with our attorneys Monday morning.
Then I returned to the ballroom.
Grant was dancing with Victoria.
When he saw me talking to Arthur again, his eyes narrowed.
I sat beside Lily.
She studied my face.
“Something wrong?”
“No.”
“You do the eyebrow thing when you're worried.”
“What eyebrow thing?”
She demonstrated an exaggerated frown.
I smiled.
“I'm fine.”
“You're lying.”
Eleven-year-olds are ruthless.
“There's an adult problem I need to deal with later.”
“Is it him?”
She nodded toward Grant.
“Partly.”
“I still don't like him.”
“I gathered that.”
Dinner was served.
The speeches began.
Victoria's maid of honor spoke about destiny.
Grant's best man told stories from college.
Then Harrison Cole, Grant's father, stood.
I hadn't spoken to him in years.
Harrison had always treated me politely when Grant and I were married, though politely was different from warmly.
He raised his champagne glass.
“To my son.”
Everyone quieted.
“When Grant was young, I told him there are two kinds of people in this world: those who build something and those who watch other people build.”
My fork stopped.
I knew where this was going.
Harrison continued.
“My son has always been a builder.”
Grant smiled.
“He has faced setbacks.”
A few guests glanced toward me.
There it was.
“He has walked away from people who could not keep pace with his ambition.”
More glances.
Mia would have thrown a bread roll.
I simply drank water.
“And today,” Harrison said, “he marries a woman worthy of standing beside him.”
Applause filled the room.
Lily leaned toward me.
“Was that about you?”
“No.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Eat your potatoes.”
“He's rude too.”
“Potatoes.”
Across the table, Noah whispered, “The whole family is Carter Benson.”
I nearly choked.
After dinner, I decided we'd stayed long enough.
I found the coordinator.
“Thank you for accommodating us.”
“Of course, Ms. Bennett.”
“Would you have someone bring our coats?”
“Absolutely.”
We were almost at the entrance when Grant appeared.
“Leaving?”
“Yes.”
“So soon?”
“The kids are tired.”
Sophie was asleep against my shoulder.
Grant looked at her.
Something unfamiliar passed across his face.
Regret?
Curiosity?
It disappeared quickly.
“Claire.”
Victoria approached.
Her cheeks were flushed from champagne.
“Before you leave, I wanted to say something.”
“All right.”
She smiled.
“I know today must have been difficult for you.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
Her smile sharpened.
“Seeing everything.”
Grant said quietly, “Victoria.”
But she continued.
“The wedding. The hotel. Grant's success.”
Several nearby guests had started listening.
I realized what she was doing.
This was the moment they'd been waiting for.
The public humiliation.
Maybe planned.
Maybe spontaneous.
But certainly intentional.
Victoria gestured toward my dress.
“You look lovely, by the way. Very understated.”
I looked down.
My dress had cost less than five hundred dollars.
I liked it.
“Thank you.”
“I always admired that about you,” she continued. “You never cared about appearances.”
A woman behind her covered a smile.
Grant said again, “Victoria.”
She ignored him.
“I just hope today gives you closure.”
“Closure?”
“Yes.”
Her voice softened theatrically.
“Sometimes watching someone move on can be painful, but necessary.”
Lily stepped closer to me.
I felt her anger.
I placed a hand gently on her shoulder.
There were many ways I could answer.
I chose the simplest.
“Victoria, I had closure the day the divorce papers were signed.”
The smile on her face twitched.
“I only mean—”
“I know what you mean.”
The driver pulled the limousine outside.
Through the enormous glass doors, we could see it waiting under the hotel lights.
Victoria glanced at it.
Then at me.
“That's yours?”
“For tonight.”
Grant frowned.
One of the guests near us whispered something.
Victoria recovered.
“Well. Very dramatic.”
“No,” I said. “Convenient.”
The doors opened.
Cold Chicago air rushed inside.
Marcus stepped from the front passenger seat.
“Ms. Bennett.”
Grant's eyes moved toward him.
Then froze.
Marcus had attended three Riverpoint meetings on my behalf.
Grant knew him.
“You,” Grant said.
Marcus gave him a professional nod.
“Mr. Cole.”
Silence.
Victoria looked between them.
“You know each other?”
Grant didn't answer.
Marcus opened the rear door.
I helped the children inside.
Before I could follow them, Grant grabbed my arm.
Not hard.
But enough.
“Claire.”
I looked down at his hand.
He released me.
“What?”
His face had gone pale.
“Marcus works for Bennett Strategic.”
“Yes.”
“You said it's your company.”
“It is.”
He stared at me.
The sounds of the wedding reception continued behind him.
Music.
Laughter.
Glasses clinking.
But Grant no longer heard any of it.
“How much of it?”
“All of it.”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I stepped toward the limousine.
Then he asked the question he'd clearly been terrified to ask.
“Are you the Claire Bennett on the Riverpoint investment committee?”
I turned back.
“Yes.”
His face drained completely.
“Claire—”
“Enjoy your wedding.”
The door closed.
We drove away.
Lily waited until the hotel disappeared behind us.
Then she grinned.
“He looked like Noah when he dropped Grandma's tablet.”
“I did not drop it,” Noah protested.
“It fell while you were holding it.”
“Gravity dropped it.”
I laughed.
But beneath the laughter was unease.
Because I knew Grant.
He wouldn't spend his honeymoon celebrating.
He would spend it calculating.
And when men like Grant realized the person they'd underestimated now held something they desperately needed, they rarely became humble.
They became dangerous.
My phone rang before we reached home.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Claire?”
It was Victoria.
She was crying.
I sat straighter.
“What happened?”
Her next words changed everything.
“Grant just locked himself in the hotel office with my father.”
A pause.
“And Claire…”
May you like
Her voice broke.
“…my father says the police might need to be called.”
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