Chapter 2 - The Letter From a Dead Man
I stared at Emily's hand around my wrist.
"You can't read that."
Her voice was barely audible.
I pulled my hand away.
"Why?"
She looked around the room as though she was searching for someone who could rescue her.
Nobody moved.
"Emily."
"I wanted to tell you."
My stomach twisted.
"Wanted to tell me what?"
Ryan still held the envelope.
Thomas stepped forward.
"This isn't the place."
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"You think there's a better place than my wedding to explain why my dead father apparently wrote a letter to my wife's family?"
"Jason—"
"Give me the letter."
Ryan handed it over.
The envelope was old.
My name was written across the front.
JASON.
I knew the handwriting.
My father used to leave notes in my lunchbox when I was a kid.
Don't forget practice.
Proud of you.
Love, Dad.
I hadn't seen that handwriting in twelve years.
My knees almost gave out.
"Where did you get this?"
Ryan glanced at Daniel.
Daniel finally looked up.
"I gave it to him."
Emily stared at her brother.
"You promised me."
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"I promised when I thought you were going to tell Jason yourself."
"Tell me what?"
Nobody answered.
I tore open the envelope.
Emily started crying harder.
Inside was a single folded sheet.
The paper trembled between my fingers.
I began reading.
Jason,
If you're reading this, then something has happened to me before I could tell you myself.
There are things adults do because they convince themselves they're protecting the people they love. Sometimes they're really only protecting themselves.
Years ago, I made a decision involving the Bennett family.
A decision I regret.
Thomas Bennett knows the truth.
So does Caroline.
Someday, if you become close to that family, you deserve to know what happened before you trust them with your future.
I stopped.
Bennett.
Emily's family.
My father had written their name years before I'd ever met her.
I looked up.
"How did my father know you?"
Thomas's face hardened.
"He worked with me."
"No, he didn't."
"Not officially."
"What does that mean?"
Thomas glanced toward the guests.
"This is family business."
Ryan snapped, "It became Jason's business when you let him marry Emily without telling him."
A murmur moved through the reception.
Emily whispered, "Ryan, stop."
"No. I've stopped for three days."
I continued reading.
The letter mentioned a property development company my father had invested in shortly before his death.
Bennett Development.
Thomas's company.
My father had discovered financial irregularities.
Money had disappeared.
Documents had been altered.
My father believed someone had used his name to authorize transactions he had never approved.
Then came the sentence that made me grip the table.
If anything happens to me before this is resolved, do not accept Thomas Bennett's version of events without seeing the original records.
I looked at Thomas.
"What happened to the records?"
He didn't answer.
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM?"
Emily flinched.
I immediately lowered my voice.
I didn't want to become the screaming groom everyone would remember.
I wanted facts.
"Did my father accuse you of stealing from him?"
Thomas exhaled.
"It's more complicated."
"That's what guilty people always say."
"Jason," Caroline pleaded, "your father wasn't innocent either."
My mother stood.
"What did you say?"
Caroline looked horrified that she'd spoken.
My mother walked toward her.
"You knew Michael?"
Caroline nodded.
My mother's face changed.
"You told me you'd never met him."
"I was afraid."
"Of what?"
Thomas interrupted.
"Enough."
"No," my mother said. "Not enough."
For the first time that night, I realized the secret wasn't confined to Emily's family.
My mother was hiding something too.
"Mom?"
She wouldn't look at me.
"Did you know Dad worked with Thomas?"
"No."
"But?"
She wiped her eyes.
"After your father died, I found papers."
"What papers?"
"I didn't understand them."
"Where are they?"
"I gave them to someone."
"Who?"
Before she could answer, Emily spoke.
"My father."
I turned toward her.
She was crying silently.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I found them."
The room seemed to tilt.
"When?"
"Six months ago."
Six months.
Six months of dinners together.
Six months of planning our wedding.
Six months of Emily looking me in the eye while carrying a secret about my dead father.
"And you said nothing."
"I was trying to understand."
"For six months?"
"My father told me the documents could destroy both families."
"Then you chose yours."
She shook her head desperately.
"No. I chose you."
"By lying?"
"I was afraid I'd lose you."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Because underneath my anger was the terrible possibility that she actually meant them.
Ryan pointed toward the letter.
"There's more."
I looked down.
At the bottom, my father had written one final instruction.
Ask Thomas Bennett what happened on October 17.
I read the date aloud.
A champagne glass shattered.
Everyone turned.
Caroline stood frozen beside the table, staring at me.
Her glass lay broken at her feet.
Thomas closed his eyes.
Emily whispered, "Mom?"
Caroline began shaking.
I walked toward her.
"What happened October seventeenth?"
She looked at Thomas.
Then at my mother.
Finally at me.
"That," she whispered, "was the night before your father died."
A chill moved through the room.
My father had supposedly died in a highway accident.
For twelve years, I'd believed it was random.
Rain.
A dark road.
Bad luck.
But Caroline's expression told me October 17 had never been just another night.
"What happened?" I asked again.
Caroline opened her mouth.
Thomas grabbed her arm.
"Don't."
She pulled away.
"No more."
"Caroline."
"I've lived with this for twelve years."
Emily rose.
"Mom, what are you saying?"
Caroline looked at her daughter.
Then she looked directly at me.
"Jason, your father came to our house that night."
My pulse hammered.
"Why?"
"He had evidence."
"Of what?"
She took a shaky breath.
"Of who had really stolen the money."
Thomas stared at her.
"Caroline."
But she continued.
"And it wasn't Thomas."
Everyone froze.
I looked at the man I'd spent the last few minutes believing had betrayed my father.
"Then who was it?"
Caroline turned slowly toward someone behind me.
I followed her eyes.
May you like
She was looking at my mother.
And for the first time in my life, I saw fear on my mother's face when someone mentioned my father's death.
