Chapter 3 - The GiftBy nine the next morning, I knew exactly what Marcus had been saying about me.
I counted.
Not because I cared about hearing from him, but because every unanswered call told me another piece of his carefully purchased fantasy had stopped working.
At 5:22, he texted:
The florist says your bank rejected the payment. Fix it.
Not please.
Not Can we talk?
Fix it.
That was Marcus.
Even when he had no right to demand anything, he behaved as if obedience were simply delayed.
At 5:37:
Evie, I know you’re seeing these messages. This isn’t funny.
At 5:51:
Three vendors are threatening to pull out. Call me NOW.
I put my phone facedown.
Naomi was still in my office, reviewing documents with our general counsel, Daniel Kim.
Daniel had spent twelve years handling corporate fraud and contract disputes. He had the unnerving habit of becoming calmer whenever everyone else grew nervous.
He slid a printed transaction history toward me.
“Marcus didn’t merely use the supplemental card,” he said. “He repeatedly represented himself as having permission to make event-related purchases.”
“What kind of permission?”
“Some vendors required confirmation for unusually large transactions. He emailed them.”
Daniel showed me a message.
The sender was Marcus.
The words made my jaw tighten.
Evelyn Hart has authorized me to coordinate the event expenses through her account. I manage discretionary purchases on her behalf.
I read it twice.
“He told them he was spending on my behalf?”
“Yes.”
“For his wedding to someone else?”
Daniel nodded.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
There was always more with Marcus.
Daniel opened another file.
“The wedding planner requested proof that he was authorized to use the account for purchases above fifty thousand dollars.”
“And?”
“He supplied a letter.”
I stared at him.
“What letter?”
Daniel rotated his laptop.
At the top was a digital Hartwell Logistics letterhead.
Below it, a short statement claiming Marcus Vale had broad purchasing authority on my behalf.
At the bottom was my signature.
Except it wasn’t my signature.
It was a remarkably convincing imitation.
“He forged this?”
“That’s what it appears to be.”
My anger changed shape.
Until then, some part of me had categorized Marcus’s behavior as arrogant misuse of an old card.
Ugly.
Dishonest.
But perhaps legally messy rather than intentional fraud.
The forged signature removed that ambiguity.
“He planned this.”
Daniel nodded. “It certainly looks deliberate.”
Naomi folded her arms.
“And extremely stupid.”
Daniel almost smiled.
“Criminal behavior often is.”
My phone rang again.
This time, the caller ID said Tessa Monroe.
I let it ring.
Then voicemail.
Thirty seconds later, a text.
I don’t know what game you’re playing, but our planner says all payments connected to your account are suddenly being rejected. Marcus says it’s a bank error. Please handle this privately.
Please handle this privately.
I wondered how privately she thought Marcus had handled sleeping with her while still living with me.
Naomi read the message over my shoulder.
“She has nerve.”
“She has information,” I said.
Daniel looked up.
“What do you mean?”
“She referenced ‘financial arrangements’ earlier. Marcus told her something about me.”
“What?”
“I’m going to find out.”
Daniel gave me a look.
“Preferably without confronting him alone.”
“I’m not confronting anyone.”
That part was true.
I had spent four years misunderstanding strength.
When Marcus lied, I confronted him.
When he disappeared for hours, I demanded explanations.
When I found Tessa’s earrings beneath the passenger seat of his car, I argued until two in the morning while he convinced me they belonged to a client.
Every confrontation gave him another opportunity to manufacture a story.
I wasn’t giving him one now.
Instead, I called the wedding planner.
Her name was Rebecca Sloan.
She answered breathlessly.
“Ms. Hart?”
“You know who I am?”
A long silence.
“Yes.”
“Then we need to speak.”
“I’m actually in the middle of a very serious payment issue—”
“I know.”
Another silence.
“You know?”
“The account declining the transactions belongs to me.”
Rebecca stopped breathing for about two seconds.
When she spoke again, her tone had transformed.
“Ms. Hart, I was under the impression Mr. Vale had authorization.”
“He doesn’t.”
“He provided documentation.”
“Forged documentation.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m not accusing you of wrongdoing. I’m telling you so you can protect yourself.”
She lowered her voice.
“I need to call our attorney.”
“You should.”
“Are you saying none of tomorrow’s balances will be paid?”
“I’m saying nothing charged to my account will be paid.”
Rebecca exhaled shakily.
“That creates… a problem.”
“How large?”
“The estate is owed seventy-eight thousand by midnight. Catering is owed fifty-six. Floral installation has already begun. Entertainment, transportation, security…”
She stopped.
“Mr. Vale told everyone money was guaranteed.”
“He lied.”
I expected panic.
Instead, Rebecca sounded suddenly tired.
“There were warning signs.”
“What kind?”
“He kept insisting invoices be sent only to him. He changed billing information twice. He became aggressive when anyone asked questions.”
“Did Tessa know?”
“I can’t say.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“She attended nearly every planning meeting.”
That answer was enough.
After we hung up, Marcus called again.
I answered.
For three seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then his familiar voice exploded through the phone.
“What the hell did you do?”
Not hello.
Not apology.
Just fury.
“I froze my card.”
“You can’t do that today.”
I almost laughed.
“It’s my account.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, Marcus. Explain it.”
“Vendors are calling me. The estate manager is threatening to cancel. Tessa is hysterical.”
“That sounds stressful.”
“Stop acting like this is some joke.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“You left the card active.”
“I forgot to close a supplemental account.”
“You said I could use it.”
“When?”
“During our relationship.”
“Our relationship ended five months ago.”
“You never explicitly revoked permission.”
I glanced at Daniel.
He shook his head slowly, signaling me not to argue legal details.
So I didn’t.
“Marcus, did you forge my signature?”
Silence.
There it was.
The first crack.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The authorization letter.”
“That was administrative.”
“With my forged signature?”
“You’re twisting things.”
“No.”
My voice stayed steady.
“For four years you twisted things. Tonight, I’m just reading them.”
His breathing became heavier.
“This wedding is tomorrow.”
“I’m aware.”
“Three hundred people are coming.”
“Then I hope you have another payment method.”
“You’re worth hundreds of millions.”
There it was.
Not I love her.
Not This wedding matters.
Not I made a terrible mistake.
Just a reminder that I could afford his betrayal.
“You won’t even feel the money,” he continued.
“That isn’t the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“That it’s mine.”
He laughed bitterly.
“This is revenge.”
“No. Revenge would be spending your money.”
“You’re humiliating me.”
“You haven’t been humiliated yet.”
The words left my mouth before I considered them.
Marcus went silent.
Daniel’s eyebrows rose.
I leaned back in my chair.
“What does that mean?” Marcus asked.
“It means I’m not responsible for what happens when people discover the truth.”
“Evie—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Another pause.
Then the mask slipped entirely.
“If you ruin tomorrow,” he said quietly, “I will make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of woman you are.”
I looked at the forged document on Daniel’s screen.
“Good.”
“What?”
“Tell everyone.”
I hung up.
At 7:12, Rebecca called again.
“The estate has issued a deadline.”
“When?”
“Ten tomorrow morning. If the remaining balance isn’t paid, they will cancel exclusive access.”
“What time is the ceremony?”
“Six.”
I looked at the skyline again.
Six o’clock.
Three hundred guests.
Luxury cars.
Custom flowers.
Champagne towers.
A groom who thought wealth meant whatever he could steal.
Rebecca hesitated.
“Ms. Hart?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else you should know.”
Her voice dropped.
“Mr. Vale has been telling people you gave him the wedding as a gift.”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“What?”
“He says you paid because you felt guilty for how your relationship ended.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Marcus hadn’t merely stolen from me.
He had rewritten our entire history.
“And Tessa believes that?”
May you like
Rebecca’s answer came quietly.
“Tessa has been bragging about it.”
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