Chapter 4: The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
“Your mother didn't die six years ago.””
Brielle's words hung between them like a threat.
Nia stood motionless beneath the enormous white-flower arch, her newborn safely supported against her chest. The garden was so quiet that she could hear the soft rustle of the pink blanket against Amara's cheek.
Ryan grabbed Brielle's wrist.
“Stop talking.””
Brielle jerked away.
“Don't touch me.””
“Brielle, you're upset. You're not thinking clearly.””
“Then explain why your ex-wife's dead mother is apparently alive!””
Ryan glanced toward the guests. Several had raised their phones. The wedding photographer stood near the champagne table, his camera lowered but still recording.
“This is a private family matter,” Ryan announced.
“Everyone needs to step back.””
Officer Cole moved closer.
“Mr. Mitchell, nobody is going anywhere until we understand what's happening.””
Ryan pointed at him.
“You're a guest at my wedding.””
“And you're creating a disturbance in front of two hundred witnesses.””
“I haven't done anything!””
Nia finally found her voice.
“Then why are you afraid of what Brielle knows?””
Ryan turned toward her.
“Because you keep dragging people into your personal vendetta!””
“My personal vendetta?”” Nia repeated.
“You sent me an invitation. You put my daughter's name on your seating chart. You submitted documents with my signature on them. And now your bride is telling me my mother is alive.””
She took one careful step forward.
“Tell me which part I'm supposed to ignore.””
Ryan opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
At the entrance, the man with the brown envelope continued walking toward them.
He was a Black man in his late fifties, dressed in a navy suit that looked slightly too large at the shoulders. His silver hair was neatly combed, and his expression carried the exhausted caution of someone who had rehearsed a difficult conversation for years.
He stopped several feet from Nia.
“Ms. Brooks?””
“Who are you?””
“My name is Marcus Reed. I was your mother's attorney.””
Nia's fingers tightened around the edge of Amara's blanket.
“My mother didn't have an attorney named Marcus Reed.””
“She did near the end.””
“She died six years ago.””
Marcus looked at Ryan.
“That's what you were told.””
Ryan's face hardened.
“Marcus, you need to leave.””
The older man ignored him.
“Nia, I understand this is difficult. I wouldn't have come here if I believed there was another way.””
“You've got about ten seconds to explain why you're standing at my ex-husband's wedding talking about my dead mother.””
Marcus lowered the envelope.
“Your mother asked me to deliver this to you when a specific legal condition was met.””
“What condition?””
“When Ryan Mitchell married again.””
Brielle stumbled backward.
“No.””
Marcus nodded solemnly.
“Yes.””
Ryan lunged for the envelope.
Officer Cole caught his shoulder.
“Don't.””
“That's my property!””
Marcus held the envelope against his chest.
“Your name isn't on it, Ryan.””
“You don't know what you're doing!””
“I know exactly what I'm doing.””
The two men stared at each other.
Then Marcus turned back to Nia.
“Your mother believed you would eventually be placed in a position where you would need the truth. She asked me not to approach you until I could deliver it without putting you in greater danger.””
Nia's eyes burned.
“What danger?””
Marcus looked at Amara.
“May we speak somewhere private?””
“No,” Nia said immediately.
“You came here in front of everyone. You can start explaining in front of everyone.””
A murmur rippled through the guests.
Brielle removed her engagement ring.
Ryan stared at her hand.
“What are you doing?””
“Thinking.””
“Put that back on.””
Brielle held the ring between two trembling fingers.
“You told me your family had no connection to Nia.””
“They don't.””
“Then why did you spend six months insisting I never ask about her mother?””
Ryan's silence answered more than any confession could have.
Brielle turned toward Nia.
“When we first met, Ryan told me his former wife's mother had died after a long illness. He said the family had helped arrange everything.””
Nia shook her head.
“My mother wasn't ill.””
“I know that now.””
“No, you don't.”” Nia's voice cracked.
“I was there when she died. I held her hand. I watched the funeral director close the casket. I buried my mother.””
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
“Nia, I'm sorry.””
“Don't apologize. Tell me what happened.””
He glanced at Ryan again.
“Your mother was involved in a legal dispute shortly before her disappearance.””
“Disappearance?”” Nia whispered.
Marcus corrected himself.
“Before the death you were told occurred.””
Nia felt the ground shift beneath her feet.
For six years, she had visited her mother's grave on birthdays and holidays. She had carried flowers through the cemetery gates, knelt in the grass, and told a woman she believed was gone about every important moment of her life.
Her wedding.
Her divorce.
The day she discovered she was pregnant.
The night she had cried so hard she could barely breathe.
Had someone been listening to those stories from somewhere she couldn't imagine?
“Who was in the casket?”” she asked.
Marcus didn't answer quickly enough.
Nia took a step toward him.
“WHO WAS IN THE CASKET?””
Officer Cole moved closer, not to restrain her, but to make sure she remained steady while supporting the baby.
Marcus finally spoke.
“I don't know.””
“You were her attorney!””
“I was not involved in the funeral arrangements. I received instructions after the fact. The documents I was given appeared legitimate, and I had no reason at the time to believe otherwise.””
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“This is absurd. A stranger shows up with an envelope, and suddenly everybody believes a ridiculous story.””
Marcus looked directly at him.
“You should be careful, Ryan.””
“Or what?””
“Or you'll make the same mistake you made six years ago.””
The color drained from Ryan's face.
Brielle noticed.
So did Nia.
“What mistake?”” Nia asked.
Marcus opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
He held it toward Nia.
The image showed a woman standing beside a hospital window, her dark hair streaked with gray. She appeared older than Nia remembered her mother, but the shape of her eyes was unmistakable.
Nia's knees nearly buckled.
It was her mother.
Alive.
The photograph had a date printed along its bottom edge.
Three months earlier.
Nia stared at it until the garden blurred around her.
“No,” she whispered.
Marcus lowered the picture.
“I received this photograph with instructions to deliver the envelope today.””
“Where is she?””
“I don't know.””
“Who took this?””
“I don't know that either.””
“Then what good are you?””
Marcus accepted the accusation without flinching.
“Not enough to give you the answers you deserve. But perhaps enough to stop you from making the same mistake your mother feared you would make.””
Nia wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“What mistake?””
Marcus looked at the envelope.
“Believing that the first official explanation is always the truth.””
Ryan suddenly stepped toward him again.
“Give me that.””
Officer Cole blocked his path.
“Mr. Mitchell, step back.””
Ryan's voice rose.
“You have no idea what she's capable of!””
Nia turned toward him.
“What is my mother capable of, Ryan?””
He stared at her.
She lifted the photograph.
“Why did you know about this?””
“I don't.””
“Why did Brielle say you told her my mother was dead?””
“Because I was told she was dead!””
“By whom?””
Ryan's lips parted.
Then he looked toward the black sedan.
The driver was still standing beside the open rear door.
And now, a second person had emerged from the passenger side.
A woman.
She wore a cream-colored coat and held a small black handbag.
Nia couldn't see her face clearly from where she stood.
But Marcus could.
The attorney dropped his envelope.
For the first time since arriving, he looked genuinely terrified.
“Oh, no,” he whispered.
Nia followed his gaze.
The woman removed her sunglasses.
Then she began walking toward the flower arch.
Brielle covered her mouth.
Ryan took a step backward.
And Nia heard a voice she had spent six years believing she would never hear again.
“Baby girl,” the woman called softly.
May you like
“Please don't let him tell you what happened.””
It was her mother's voice.
