Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN FROM REBECCA’S PASTClaire Dawson did not look like someone enjoying revenge.
That surprised me.
She looked tired.
Her hands shook when she placed the USB drive into David’s palm.
Rebecca stood several feet away, breathing hard.
“This woman has been stalking me.”
Claire gave a humorless laugh.
“If wanting answers about my dead brother makes me a stalker, fine.”
Rebecca’s father turned toward Claire.
“My daughter was cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“I never said she killed him.”
Claire looked at Rebecca.
“I said he knew what she was planning.”
Something flickered across Rebecca’s face.
Fear.
Maybe guilt.
Maybe both.
I told Marcus to take Emily into the side office.
“I want to stay,” Emily protested.
I crouched beside her.
“You’ve already been very brave. Let Dad handle this part.”
“Are you going to leave me?”
That question shattered whatever composure I had left.
I kissed her forehead.
“Never.”
Marcus led her away.
Then I turned back.
The wedding guests remained seated, too stunned or fascinated to move.
I raised my voice.
“The ceremony is over. Everyone can go.”
Nobody moved.
Marcus’s wife finally stood and began gently guiding people toward the exit.
It took almost twenty minutes.
Rebecca’s family refused to leave.
So did several of mine.
Eventually we moved into a private reception room behind the chapel.
Claire sat across from David.
Rebecca remained standing.
“I want her removed.”
“This isn’t your wedding anymore,” I said.
She flinched.
Good.
Claire told us about her brother.
Nathan Dawson had been a software entrepreneur in Seattle.
Thirty-four years old.
Widowed.
Father of a five-year-old boy named Jacob.
He met Rebecca at a charity fundraiser.
Within thirteen months, they were engaged.
Claire had initially liked her.
“She was wonderful with Jacob,” Claire said. “At first.”
My stomach twisted.
Same pattern.
“Then she started complaining that Nathan spent too much time with him.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Liar.”
Claire ignored her.
“She wanted Jacob sent to a private boarding academy in Vermont.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She stared back without blinking.
Claire continued.
“My brother refused. They fought.”
Three weeks before the wedding, Nathan’s car went through a highway barrier during heavy rain.
Police found no mechanical problem.
No alcohol.
No drugs.
It was ruled an accident.
“Rebecca received nothing,” her father said. “Nathan died before they married.”
Claire nodded.
“That was the problem.”
Rebecca’s mother scoffed.
“You sound insane.”
Claire looked at David.
“Play file number three.”
David connected the USB drive to his laptop.
A recording began.
Nathan’s voice.
Distorted slightly by age, but clear.
“I’m making this because I don’t know whether I’m imagining things anymore.”
Then another voice.
Rebecca.
Younger.
But unmistakable.
Nathan said, “You told Jacob I wanted him gone?”
Rebecca responded:
“He needs independence.”
“He’s five.”
“He’s ruining us.”
“He’s my son.”
“And I’m supposed to be your wife.”
My hands curled into fists.
The argument continued.
Then Nathan said something that made the room freeze.
“I saw the trust paperwork.”
Silence.
“What paperwork?” Rebecca asked.
“The paperwork you prepared with your mother.”
Patricia Collins went pale.
Rebecca looked at her.
Claire paused the recording.
“Still want to call me a liar?”
Patricia stood.
“We’re leaving.”
David blocked the door.
“No one is being detained. But I strongly recommend you remain.”
Rebecca’s father stared at his wife.
“What paperwork?”
Patricia said nothing.
David restarted the recording.
Nathan’s voice grew angrier.
“You wanted control of Jacob’s trust if I died.”
Rebecca replied:
“I wanted stability.”
“You wanted his money.”
“You’re twisting this.”
“And the house?”
“We would have been married.”
“And your mother’s company receiving consulting fees from mine?”
Rebecca said nothing.
Nathan’s final words on the recording were devastating.
“If you come near my son again, I’m calling off the wedding.”
The audio ended.
I looked at Rebecca.
“So this wasn’t the first time.”
She shook her head slowly.
“Nathan was paranoid.”
Claire rose.
“My brother died believing he had protected his son.”
“Where is Jacob now?” I asked.
“With me.”
Claire smiled faintly.
“He’s thirteen.”
Then her expression hardened.
“And he still remembers the night Rebecca told him his father would love her more if Jacob disappeared.”
The similarity to what Emily had just been told was sickening.
I walked toward Rebecca.
“For two years, you told me you loved Emily.”
“I do.”
“No.”
My voice remained quiet.
“You performed love.”
Rebecca’s eyes filled with tears.
“Daniel, I made mistakes before I met you.”
“This happened today.”
“She misunderstood me!”
I took the note from my pocket.
“Your handwriting.”
“It was supposed to motivate her to accept a school opportunity.”
“Stop saying school opportunity like that makes this less disgusting.”
Rebecca finally snapped.
“You have no idea what it is like trying to build a life around a child who constantly needs reassurance!”
There it was.
No mask.
No careful voice.
Just resentment.
“You knew I had a daughter when you met me.”
“I thought she would adjust!”
“To what?”
“To us!”
“There is no us without her.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
Her father stared at her.
“Rebecca…”
She turned on him.
“Don’t.”
Then Patricia stepped beside her daughter.
“This entire situation has become emotional. Daniel, you should go home, let everyone calm down, and we can discuss assets tomorrow.”
Assets.
Not love.
Not Emily.
Assets.
David apparently noticed too.
He pulled me aside.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“There’s another problem.”
I looked toward Rebecca.
“What now?”
“The house.”
“What about it?”
“She may already have an interest.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Six months ago you refinanced.”
“Yes.”
“Do you remember signing an occupancy declaration?”
“Yes.”
David’s expression darkened.
“There was apparently another document included in the electronic package.”
I felt sick.
“What document?”
“A quitclaim deed.”
Everything inside me went still.
“To Rebecca?”
“Possibly.”
“I never signed that.”
“You may have.”
He turned the laptop toward me.
There was my electronic signature.
And there was the address of the house Laura and I had bought before Emily was born.
The house where my daughter took her first steps.
The house containing every photograph we still had of her mother.
Rebecca’s name appeared beneath mine.
Fifty-percent ownership.
I looked across the room.
Rebecca was watching me.
And this time she smiled.
Not because she thought the wedding could be saved.
Because she knew she already had something.
“You can cancel the ceremony, Daniel,” she said softly.
“But you still have to go home.”
My phone rang.
Our security company.
I answered.
“Mr. Bellamy?”
“Yes.”
“We received a request twenty minutes ago to change the access codes at your residence.”
My heart dropped.
“From whom?”
“Rebecca Collins.”
I looked at her.
She picked up her handbag.
May you like
Then she said the words that started the real war.
“Emily’s bedroom is in my house now.”
Related Stories
