Chapter 2 - The Millionaire Who Wasn’t“Why would federal agents ask for you?”
Every single one belonged to someone from my family.
My mother.
My father.
My younger sister.
Three aunts.
Four uncles.
Twelve cousins.
My grandmother.
Even my godmother, who had once sworn she would “crawl through a hurricane” before missing my wedding.
They had all RSVP’d yes.
Then, forty-eight hours before the ceremony, they changed their minds.
Not because anyone was sick.
Not because of a funeral.
Not because a hurricane had actually arrived.
They skipped my wedding because my sister’s fiancé was throwing a “private luxury celebration” at a rented mansion three counties away.
Apparently, champagne by a heated infinity pool sounded more important than watching me get married.
“Emily.”
I looked up.
My husband, Daniel Mercer, stood beside me in his tuxedo, one hand resting gently against my back.
“You don’t have to smile,” he murmured.
That almost broke me.
Because I had been smiling for hours.
Smiling when the photographer asked us to turn toward the empty family section.
Smiling when Daniel’s mother quietly instructed the venue staff to remove several place cards so the emptiness wouldn’t look quite so obvious.
Smiling when my best friend, Rachel, hugged me in the bathroom and whispered, “You’re allowed to be furious.”
I hadn’t been furious.
Not yet.
Mostly, I felt hollow.
My mother’s last text still sat unread in my notification bar.
Sweetheart, don’t make this dramatic. Madison only gets one engagement celebration like this. You’ll understand someday.
One engagement celebration.
I looked down at my wedding dress.
Then at my wedding cake.
Then at my husband.
Apparently, I only got one wedding too.
But nobody in my family seemed to have noticed.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Ready?”
I nodded.
Our remaining guests gathered around.
There were fifty-two people in the ballroom instead of the eighty-nine we had planned for.
Daniel’s side filled nearly every table.
Mine looked like a restaurant after closing time.
Still, the people who stayed cheered when we cut the first slice.
I heard Rachel yell, “Make it messy!”
I laughed despite myself.
Daniel smeared the smallest dot of frosting on my nose.
“You’re dead,” I whispered.
“Worth it.”
For ten beautiful seconds, I forgot the empty chairs.
Then every phone on the nearest table started vibrating.
Not one.
All of them.
Rachel looked down.
Daniel’s brother checked his screen.
Daniel’s mother frowned.
Then my purse began buzzing on the gift table.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Rachel walked over and picked it up.
Her expression changed.
“Emily.”
Something in her voice made my stomach tighten.
“What?”
She held up my phone.
Twenty-three missed calls.
I stared.
Mom.
Dad.
Madison.
Aunt Linda.
Uncle Robert.
Mom again.
Madison again.
Then a new call flashed across the screen.
MOM
I let it ring.
Five seconds later, Madison called.
Then my father.
The ballroom slowly went quiet.
Daniel took my hand.
“Something happened.”
I finally answered my mother.
“Emily!”
She was screaming so loudly that I pulled the phone away from my ear.
“Mom?”
“Where is Daniel?”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Where is your husband?”
“Standing beside me.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Her voice cracked.
In the background, people were shouting.
Someone was crying.
Then I heard a man yell, “Nobody leaves until the officers clear you!”
My blood went cold.
“Mom, what happened?”
She started sobbing.
“It’s Preston.”
Preston Hale.
My sister’s millionaire fiancé.
The man whose luxury party had apparently been important enough to erase my wedding.
“What about him?”
My mother sucked in a shaking breath.
“The police are here.”
Daniel’s expression sharpened.
I put the phone on speaker.
My father suddenly grabbed it from her.
“Emily, listen to me carefully. We need Daniel.”
“For what?”
“There are federal agents here.”
The room around me became completely silent.
My father lowered his voice.
“They’re saying Preston stole millions of dollars.”
I stared at Daniel.
He didn’t look surprised.
That frightened me more than anything.
Then my sister came onto the phone.
“Emily, please.”
Madison was crying.
Not pretty tears.
Not embarrassed tears.
She sounded terrified.
“They took Preston away in handcuffs.”
I swallowed.
“What does that have to do with Daniel?”
Silence.
Then Madison whispered five words.
Words that made me turn slowly toward my new husband.
“They asked for him by name.”
May you like
Daniel closed his eyes.
And suddenly, thirty-seven empty chairs no longer felt like the worst thing that had happened that night.
