Chapter 2 - The Woman Outside Jessica’s Apartment
Jessica did not want to let Monica upstairs.
Neither did I.
Three hours earlier, Monica’s relatives had been standing outside my parents’ house accusing me of theft.
Now one of those relatives was asking to enter the only place Brandon did not know I was staying.
“You don’t owe her anything,” Jessica whispered.
I stared at the security screen.
Monica was twenty-seven, quiet, and usually invisible at family gatherings.
At my wedding, she had hugged me longer than expected and whispered, “Take care of yourself.”
At the time, I assumed she was being kind.
Now those words felt different.
“Ask her to leave whatever she has downstairs,” Jessica said.
I pressed the intercom.
“If you have evidence, send it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Brandon checks whether things are forwarded. He has access to my uncle’s phone records, and Patrick has been asking everybody who spoke to you.”
That sounded paranoid.
But after that morning, paranoia no longer seemed impossible.
“What exactly did you record?”
Monica swallowed.
“A family dinner.”
“When?”
“Six days before your wedding.”
My hand tightened around the intercom.
“What did they say?”
Her eyes flicked toward the street.
“Please let me come upstairs.”
Jessica shook her head.
I made a decision.
“Lobby only.”
Five minutes later, we met Monica beside the mailboxes.
Jessica remained at my side.
Monica looked terrible.
Her hair had been shoved into a loose ponytail. She had no makeup on. Her hands trembled around her phone.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“For what?”
“For not telling you sooner.”
She unlocked her phone.
“I didn’t know what they were planning until this dinner.”
She selected an audio file.
The date displayed on the screen made my stomach turn.
Six days before my wedding.
Monica pressed play.
At first there was laughter.
Silverware.
Someone pouring a drink.
Then Brenda’s voice.
“When the deposit clears, we move quickly.”
Patrick replied.
“She won’t agree to buy the house.”
Brenda laughed.
“She doesn’t have to agree. Brandon will handle her.”
My chest went cold.
Another voice spoke.
Brandon.
“You’re all acting like this is difficult.”
A chair scraped across the floor.
“She trusts me.”
I stopped breathing.
Brandon continued.
“The account is only in her name because her father is paranoid. After the wedding, she’ll add me.”
Patrick asked, “And if she doesn’t?”
There was a pause.
Then my husband laughed.
“She will.”
Brenda said something quieter.
Monica increased the volume.
“If being sweet doesn’t work, stop being sweet.”
Then Patrick:
“That money solves everything.”
“What everything?” Brandon asked.
“The mortgage. Your mother’s cards. Your truck balance. My business loan. Monica’s uncle wants his investment back. We can clean all of it.”
My eyes moved to Monica.
She looked down.
On the recording, Brandon whistled.
“That’s basically the whole amount.”
“So?”
That was Brenda.
“She’s your wife. Her money is your money.”
Brandon answered in a tone I had never heard while dating him.
A cold, casual tone.
“She’ll adjust.”
The recording continued.
Brenda talked about making sure I understood “how the household worked.”
Patrick joked that I would be too embarrassed to return to my parents immediately after such an expensive wedding.
Then Brandon said something that hurt worse than the dishcloth.
“She cares too much about what people think. That’s why I picked her.”
Jessica whispered a curse.
My vision blurred.
Monica paused the recording.
“There’s more.”
“How much more?”
“Forty-seven minutes.”
I leaned against the wall.
The lobby suddenly felt too small.
“Why did you record them?”
Monica hesitated.
“Because they were also talking about my mother.”
Her mother was Patrick’s younger sister.
“What about her?”
“They borrowed money from her two years ago. They kept saying they couldn’t repay it. That night I realized they were planning to use your wedding money to pay some of it back and tell her it came from Patrick’s business.”
“So why not just expose them then?”
“Because my mother begged me not to start a war before your wedding.”
Anger rose in me.
“You knew?”
“Not everything.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
That answer stopped me.
She did not defend herself.
“I was a coward,” Monica said. “I thought maybe Brandon really loved you and would refuse.”
“He didn’t.”
“No.”
I stared at the phone.
“Send me the file.”
“I made copies.”
She removed a small flash drive from her purse.
“This has the original recording, screenshots of family messages, and pictures of documents Patrick had on the dining table.”
“What documents?”
“Debts.”
Jessica took the drive.
Monica continued.
“And there’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“Your mother-in-law told everyone tonight that tomorrow morning she is going to report you for stealing the wedding fund.”
I almost laughed.
“How can I steal money from an account in my name?”
“They know that.”
“Then what are they doing?”
“Creating a story before you can.”
I understood immediately.
They wanted relatives to hear their version first.
The ungrateful bride.
The greedy woman who took the wedding gifts and disappeared.
The unstable newlywed.
Brandon would become the abandoned husband.
Brenda would become the devastated mother.
“And Brandon?” I asked.
Monica hesitated.
“He told everyone you left because he caught you planning to give the money to your parents.”
Jessica’s mouth fell open.
“What?”
“He’s saying your family tricked his family into contributing $450,000.”
My humiliation began transforming into something else.
Resolve.
“Good.”
Monica blinked.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
I stood straighter.
“If he wants to tell that story, let him.”
Jessica knew me well enough to recognize the tone.
“What are you thinking?”
“That I’m done defending myself in private.”
The next morning, I met with an attorney named Laura Méndez.
I brought the bank documents.
Wedding gift records.
Messages.
The flash drive.
Laura listened to ten minutes of Monica’s recording without interrupting.
Then she removed her glasses.
“Do not contact Brandon directly.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not withdraw or spend the disputed portion without documentation.”
“Okay.”
“And absolutely do not give anyone your banking credentials.”
I almost smiled.
“That seems obvious now.”
Laura did not smile back.
“People under family pressure do things they know they shouldn’t.”
She examined the account records again.
“Your parents deposited the funds?”
“Yes.”
“And the account existed before the marriage?”
“Yes.”
“Only your name?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed slightly.
Not triumph.
Professional interest.
“Then Brandon’s family may have made a very expensive assumption.”
At 11:23 a.m., my phone received a notification.
There had been an attempt to log into my online banking account.
Wrong password.
Thirty seconds later, another.
Then another.
Jessica looked over my shoulder.
“Is that him?”
I stared at the notification.
Before I could answer, another message appeared.
PASSWORD RESET REQUESTED.
Laura reached for her phone.
“Call the bank now.”
I did.
The security specialist froze online access and asked a question.
“Ms. Rivera, did you authorize someone to visit a branch this morning claiming to be your husband?”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
The representative continued.
“He presented a copy of your marriage certificate and requested access to an account containing approximately six hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
Jessica stared at me.
Laura began taking notes.
“And what happened?” I asked.
“He was denied.”
Relief lasted less than a second.
Then the representative added:
“But he left saying he would return with additional documentation.”
Laura looked directly at me.
May you like
“Now,” she said quietly, “we find out what documentation he thinks he has.”
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