Chapter 2: The Confession My Mother Tried to Hide
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
After the wedding?
What wedding?
The one where I would stand beside Marcus while my sister watched us exchange vows?
The one where my mother would smile for photographs while knowing exactly what was happening behind my back?
I stared at her.
"Say that again.""
Mom placed her clutch on the vanity.
"Not like this, Nia.""
"Then how?""
She glanced at Brielle.
"Sweetheart, sit down.""
Brielle shook her head.
"I can't.""
"Sit down," Mom repeated.
It was the same voice she'd used when we were children and Brielle had broken something expensive.
My sister slowly lowered herself onto the makeup chair.
I remained standing.
"How long have you known?""
Mom looked at Marcus.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Patricia, this isn't helping.""
I turned sharply.
"Don't call my mother by her first name like you're all business partners.""
Mom took a breath.
"About three months.""
Three months.
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the alternative was screaming.
"You've known for three months?""
"I found out accidentally.""
"How?""
She looked toward Brielle.
My sister's mascara was now running down her cheeks.
"Mom found us together," Brielle whispered.
I felt my knees weaken.
"Where?""
"At the house.""
"What house?""
"Your parents' house," Marcus answered.
I turned toward him.
"You brought my sister to my parents' house?""
He looked uncomfortable.
"It wasn't planned.""
Mom quickly interrupted.
"It was a misunderstanding.""
I stared at her.
"How does someone misunderstand two people kissing?""
She folded her hands.
"I mean the circumstances were complicated.""
"Complicated?""
I stepped closer.
"Mom, I need you to hear yourself.""
She lowered her voice.
"Marcus came to discuss something with me. Brielle was already there. Things happened.""
"Things happened?""
I looked at Brielle.
"Did you kiss him in Grandma's living room too?""
Brielle began sobbing.
"Please don't.""
"Did you?""
"No.""
"Then where?""
She looked at the floor.
"Upstairs.""
I closed my eyes.
The house.
The same house where I'd spent every Christmas. The same staircase where my father had carried Brielle after she broke her ankle at sixteen.
I remembered visiting my parents three months earlier.
Marcus had said he needed to work late.
Brielle had told me she was helping Mom organize old photographs.
I'd brought over a pie.
Mom had hugged me at the door and said how lucky she was to have two wonderful daughters.
I suddenly wondered whether she'd washed the sheets before I arrived.
"Why didn't you tell me?"" I asked.
Mom stepped toward me.
"Because I knew you would react exactly like this.""
"Like what?""
"Emotionally.""
I stared at her.
"Your daughter is sleeping with my fiancé, and I'm the emotional one?""
Mom's jaw tightened.
"Lower your voice.""
"No.""
"Nia, there are guests outside.""
"I don't care!""
My voice cracked.
For the first time, my mother looked genuinely uncomfortable.
Marcus moved toward me.
"Can we please focus on fixing this?""
I turned.
"Fixing what?""
He took a deep breath.
"I love you.""
I almost slapped him.
Instead, I pointed toward Brielle.
"Then why her?""
He didn't answer.
"Is she prettier? Younger? More exciting?""
"Nia, that's not fair.""
"Fair?""
I laughed bitterly.
"Fair would have been telling me before I paid the final balance on this wedding.""
Marcus glanced at my mother.
That was when I noticed something.
They were communicating without words.
A look.
A slight movement of the head.
Something rehearsed.
I turned toward Mom.
"Why are you protecting him?""
She looked startled.
"I'm not protecting anyone.""
"Then why are you trying so hard to keep this wedding alive?""
She pressed her lips together.
"Because there are things you don't understand.""
"Explain them.""
She didn't.
Instead, she opened her purse and removed a folded envelope.
My name was written across the front.
NIA.
The handwriting was my father's.
"What's that?"" I asked.
Mom hesitated.
"Your father wanted to give you this after the ceremony.""
I took it from her.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
I recognized the letterhead immediately.
It belonged to the accounting firm my father had owned for twenty-eight years.
The document contained a list of assets, company shares, and a transfer agreement.
At the bottom was a paragraph I read twice.
My father's investment company had recently transferred a controlling interest in a property development business to Marcus.
The transaction was dated five weeks earlier.
I looked up.
"Why does Marcus own part of Dad's company?""
Mom crossed her arms.
"Your father wanted to help him establish himself.""
"With what money?""
She said nothing.
I looked at Marcus.
"How much?""
He shifted his weight.
"It's not what you think.""
"How much?""
"Four hundred thousand.""
The room became very quiet.
I looked at my mother.
"Did Dad give him four hundred thousand dollars?""
"It was an investment," she said quickly.
"An investment in what?""
Marcus answered.
"My development company.""
I looked at the document again.
The company name meant nothing to me.
But the date did.
Five weeks ago.
That was when Dad had invited Marcus to dinner and told everyone he wanted to discuss our future.
I remembered Marcus returning home that night unusually cheerful.
He'd kissed my forehead and said, "Your father believes in me.""
I had thought it was because Dad finally approved of him.
Now I wasn't sure.
I looked at my mother.
"Did Dad know about Brielle?""
She hesitated.
"Yes.""
The paper slipped slightly in my hands.
Both my parents knew.
Both.
I felt suddenly detached from my body.
"Did Dad approve of this?""
Mom shook her head.
"He was furious when he found out.""
"Then why did you hide it?""
"Because your father wanted to handle it privately.""
"And you?""
She looked away.
"I thought Marcus would end things with Brielle.""
I stared at her.
"Instead, you let him marry me.""
Mom's eyes filled.
"I wanted you to have your wedding.""
I stepped backward.
"You wanted me to have a wedding?""
She reached for my hand.
"Nia, listen. Marcus made mistakes, but he is still a good man in many ways.""
I pulled away.
"Then you marry him.""
Her face hardened.
"Don't be disrespectful.""
A knock sounded at the door.
My father entered without waiting.
He wore his navy suit and the expression he usually reserved for difficult business meetings.
His eyes moved across the room.
He saw the document in my hand.
Then he looked at my mother.
"You told her.""
Mom lifted her chin.
"She deserved to know.""
Dad closed the door.
"Not all of it.""
I stared at him.
"What else?""
He looked at Marcus.
"Get out.""
Marcus stiffened.
"Mr. Bennett—"
"Now.""
Brielle stood.
"Dad, please.""
He didn't look at her.
"You're not helping yourself.""
Marcus picked up his jacket from the chair.
As he passed me, he stopped.
"Nia, we need to talk alone.""
I didn't look at him.
"We're done talking.""
He left.
Brielle tried to follow.
Dad held out his hand.
"Not you.""
My sister froze.
Mom whispered, "Robert, don't do this.""
Dad placed a second envelope on the vanity.
"This one," he said, "contains the reason Marcus wanted to marry you.""
I looked at the envelope.
My name was not written on it.
Instead, it bore the name of a company.
May you like
And beneath that name was a signature I recognized.
My mother's.
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