Chapter 4 - The Woman I Thought Was My Rival
Olivia Mercer asked to meet us at seven the next morning.
Not at her parents’ house.
Not at ours.
A diner beside the interstate thirty minutes outside Cincinnati.
“That sounds reassuring,” I told Nick.
He was driving.
“What part?”
“The secret meeting at a roadside diner the morning after our wedding.”
“At least she didn’t say parking garage.”
“Give her time.”
Nick almost smiled.
Neither of us had slept.
At three in the morning, after the last guest left and my father forced us to take the remaining cake home, Nick and I sat on the floor of our hotel suite eating vanilla frosting with plastic forks.
Not exactly the wedding night I had imagined.
My phone never stopped buzzing.
The photograph of Martha cutting my braid had spread far beyond our guest list.
By sunrise, strangers were arguing about whether assaulting your daughter-in-law counted as tradition.
Jenna had not released her professional images.
Yet.
She had texted:
Whatever you need. I have the sequence saved in three places.
Nick had received seventeen calls from his mother.
He answered none.
At 7:03 a.m., Olivia walked into the diner wearing jeans, sunglasses, and a baseball cap.
She slid into the booth across from us.
“I’m sorry.”
Those were her first words.
I studied her.
“For which part?”
“All of it.”
She removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were swollen.
“I didn’t know Martha planned to do that to you.”
Nick leaned back.
“But you knew about the marriage plan?”
Olivia winced.
“Not like that.”
“Explain.”
She wrapped both hands around a coffee cup she hadn’t ordered.
“My mother has been talking about you and me getting married since we were kids.”
“I remember.”
“I thought it was a joke.”
Nick said nothing.
“It stopped feeling like a joke last year.”
She pulled a flash drive from her purse.
My stomach tightened.
“Mom started sending me emails about ‘family responsibility.’ She told me Mercer Development was overextended after two projects fell through.”
Nick frowned.
“Your company is in trouble?”
“Worse than she admits.”
She looked at me.
“Then Martha started telling her Bennett Hospitality needed a strategic partnership.”
“Which was also a lie,” Nick said.
“Not completely.”
Olivia shook her head.
“My mother knew Martha had taken out loans.”
“How?”
“Because some of the money ended up in Mercer projects.”
Nick’s face hardened.
Olivia continued.
“Their plan was to combine enough assets that neither family’s financial problems would become public.”
I stared.
“And marrying Nick somehow fixes that?”
“Publicly, it creates a clean story. Privately, it gave my mother a reason to demand voting influence over both companies.”
“That is completely insane.”
“Yes.”
Olivia’s eyes met mine.
“That’s why I refused.”
I blinked.
“You refused?”
“Three times.”
Nick sat forward.
“When?”
“First time was last Christmas.”
That surprised me.
Martha had spent that Christmas loudly telling me Olivia was “seeing someone serious.”
“She told us you had a boyfriend.”
“I did. She hated him.”
“Your mother?”
“Both of them.”
Of course.
Olivia gave a bitter laugh.
“Apparently being thirty years old doesn’t stop your mother from trying to arrange your life.”
That was the first moment I stopped seeing her as Martha’s chosen princess.
She looked exhausted.
Trapped.
Very human.
She pushed the flash drive toward Nick.
“Everything is there.”
“What exactly?”
“Emails. Draft agreements. Loan schedules. And messages about Claire.”
My stomach tightened.
“About me?”
Olivia nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
I plugged the flash drive into Nick’s laptop.
The diner suddenly felt too bright.
There were dozens of folders.
One was labeled:
NB-CW
Nick Bennett.
Claire Wilson.
I clicked it.
The first email was from Diane to Martha.
She won’t survive serious social pressure. People like Claire always retreat when they realize they don’t belong.
I stopped reading.
Nick reached for the computer.
“No.”
I moved it back.
“I want to know.”
Another message.
If Nick insists on continuing the engagement, find something that creates a public rupture. He needs to associate her with embarrassment.
My chest went cold.
Nick whispered, “Jesus.”
Olivia looked away.
Then we found the one written four days before our wedding.
From Martha.
I have an idea. It will look like a harmless family joke. If she loses control in public, Nick may finally see what marriage to her will look like.
I stared at the words.
The scissors had not been impulsive.
Not even slightly.
Martha had planned it.
My humiliation was supposed to be a test.
If I cried, yelled, or left, she would use my reaction against me.
If I stayed silent, she would get away with it.
I closed the laptop.
Nick looked sick.
Olivia whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I believed her.
That surprised me.
“What happens if these emails become public?” I asked.
Her mouth tightened.
“My mother could lose her company.”
“And Martha?”
“Depends what Evelyn’s attorney finds.”
Nick stared out the window.
I knew that expression.
He was thinking about family.
Not protecting Martha.
Mourning her.
There is a difference.
I reached across the table and touched his wrist.
His fingers closed around mine.
Olivia watched us.
Then she smiled sadly.
“That’s why they were never going to win.”
“What?”
“You two actually love each other.”
She looked down at the table.
“My mother understands leverage. Martha understands control.”
She looked back up.
“Neither of them understands what to do with people who choose each other even when it costs them something.”
I thought that might be the end of the meeting.
It wasn’t.
Olivia reached into her purse again.
This time, she removed a small envelope.
“There’s one more thing.”
Nick frowned.
“What?”
“I found it in my mother’s safe.”
She placed it between us.
Across the front was Richard Bennett’s name.
Inside was a photocopy of a signed loan guarantee.
Richard’s signature appeared at the bottom.
Nick examined it.
Then froze.
“What?”
He turned the page toward me.
Near Richard’s signature was another name.
A witness.
Martha Bennett.
Olivia said quietly:
“Your father didn’t sign this.”
Nick looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because on the date it was supposedly signed, Richard was in intensive care after his heart attack.”
The diner seemed to go silent.
Nick stared at the document.
Twelve million dollars was one thing.
Manipulation was one thing.
A forged signature was another.
Olivia’s voice dropped.
“If that guarantee is fake, this isn’t just family drama anymore.”
May you like
She looked at Nick.
“It’s fraud.”
