Chapter 2: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
The first thing Nathaniel did after the guards escorted Corisande out of the ballroom was reach for my hand.
I pulled away.
It was a small movement.
Barely an inch.
But his fingers closed around empty air, and I watched the realization settle over his face.
“Isolde,” he said, lowering his voice.
“Please.””
I touched the corner of my lip. It stung.
A drop of blood had reached the lace at the neckline of my wedding dress.
“Don't tell me to calm down.””
“I wasn't going to.””
“Then tell me what she meant.””
He glanced at the guests surrounding us.
The ballroom had become a theater of frozen expressions. Some people pretended to examine their phones. Others stared openly. My aunt had one hand pressed to her chest, and Nathaniel's mother was whispering urgently to his father.
The musicians had stopped playing.
Two hundred people were waiting for an explanation.
Nathaniel looked toward the doors through which Corisande had disappeared.
“Not here,” he said.
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“You're worried about where we discuss this?””
“I'm worried about you.””
“Then answer me.””
His jaw tightened.
“Corisande has been having a difficult time. She isn't well, and she has been trying to contact me for months. I thought she'd finally accepted that our relationship was over.””
“That explains why she's angry. It doesn't explain why she thinks you promised her something.””
Nathaniel rubbed the back of his neck.
“She says things when she's upset.””
“Did you pay for something for her?””
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
I looked into his eyes.
He held my gaze for perhaps two seconds before looking away.
And in those two seconds, something inside me changed.
I had spent three years learning the small details of Nathaniel Bennett. The way he tapped his thumb against his wedding ring when he was thinking. The way he tilted his head when he was about to make a joke. The way his voice softened whenever he spoke about the future we were building.
I knew when he was tired.
I knew when he was angry.
And I knew when he was lying.
“I'm going upstairs,” I said.
“Isolde, wait.””
“I need to clean my face.””
“Let me come with you.””
“No.””
The word escaped before I could soften it.
His expression tightened.
I turned toward Vivian, who was already holding my discarded bridal bouquet.
“Come with me.””
She nodded immediately.
As we crossed the ballroom, I heard Nathaniel's father mutter something to the hotel manager. A moment later, the music started again, hesitant and quiet, as though the musicians were afraid another sound might shatter the evening.
The guests slowly resumed their conversations.
But every face turned as I passed.
I had dreamed of walking through this ballroom as a bride who had everything she wanted.
Instead, I walked through it with blood on my dress and the unmistakable feeling that everyone knew a secret I hadn't been allowed to hear.
Upstairs, in the bridal suite, Vivian locked the door.
She helped me sit before opening the first-aid kit from the bathroom cabinet.
“Hold still,” she said.
“I am holding still.””
“You're gripping the chair hard enough to leave fingerprints.””
I looked down.
My knuckles were white.
I forced my hands to relax.
Vivian dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton pad and touched it to my lip.
I flinched.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“It's fine.””
“No, it isn't.””
Her voice cracked on the last word.
I looked at her.
She had been my best friend since college. She had held my hair while I cried over my first breakup. She had slept on my floor when my mother died. She had helped me choose my wedding dress and threatened three different florists on my behalf.
Seeing her angry on my behalf nearly undid me.
“I don't understand,” I whispered.
Vivian set down the cotton pad.
“What part?””
“Everything. Why did she say I stole him? Why did she say he promised her something? And why did Nathaniel look like he was about to faint?””
Vivian didn't answer immediately.
I noticed.
“Vivian.””
She crossed her arms.
“There's something I should have told you.””
My heart sank.
“Please don't tell me you knew about tonight.””
“I didn't know she would come here and hit you.””
“But you knew something.””
Vivian sat beside me.
“Three weeks ago, I received an anonymous message.””
I stared at her.
“What message?””
“It said that Nathaniel had been hiding a serious financial problem from you. The sender claimed Corisande was involved.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I couldn't verify it. I asked Nathaniel about it, and he said it was nonsense.””
“And you believed him?””
“I wanted to.””
She looked down at her hands.
“Isolde, I watched you fall in love with him. I saw how happy you were. I didn't want to destroy that happiness over an anonymous message.””
I stood so quickly that the chair scraped across the floor.
“So you decided I should marry him without knowing?””
“That's not what I wanted.””
“But it's what happened!””
Vivian flinched.
I immediately regretted raising my voice, but the anger had already escaped.
I walked toward the window.
Below us, the hotel's entrance glowed beneath golden lights. Guests were arriving for another event, completely unaware that my wedding had become a disaster upstairs and downstairs.
“I'm sorry,” Vivian said softly.
I closed my eyes.
“No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shouted.””
“You have every right to be angry.””
I turned back toward her.
“What exactly did that message say?””
Vivian hesitated before pulling out her phone.
She opened an old conversation and handed it to me.
The message was short.
Ask Nathaniel Bennett who paid to keep Corisande Vale quiet. Ask him why a woman who supposedly left his life five years ago still has access to his private accounts.
My mouth went dry.
“Private accounts?””
“I don't know what that means,” Vivian said.
“I tried to find out, but the sender never replied.””
I read the message again.
Then I noticed the timestamp.
Three weeks ago.
The same week Nathaniel had insisted that we finalize the wedding payments through his personal financial adviser.
A cold sensation crawled up my arms.
“Where's my phone?””
Vivian handed it to me.
I called Nathaniel.
He answered immediately.
“Isolde, thank God. Are you all right?””
“Come upstairs.””
“I'm coming.””
“And Nathaniel?””
“Yes?””
“Bring your phone.””
There was a pause.
“Why?””
“Because I want to see the accounts you used to pay for our wedding.””
Silence.
Then he said, “That's not something we should discuss while you're upset.””
I ended the call.
Vivian stared at me.
“Was that a yes or a no?””
“It was a confession disguised as concern.””
Ten minutes later, someone knocked.
Nathaniel entered carrying a glass of water and a clean handkerchief. His tuxedo jacket was gone, and the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up.
He looked at my injured lip.
For a moment, his expression softened.
“God, Isolde. I'm so sorry.””
He placed the water on the table.
I didn't touch it.
“Sit down.””
He obeyed.
“Tell me about Corisande.””
Nathaniel exhaled.
“We dated for eight months, years ago. The relationship became unhealthy. She wanted a commitment I wasn't ready to give, and we ended things.””
“Who ended it?””
“I did.””
“Did she agree?””
His silence answered me.
I pulled out a chair and sat opposite him.
“Did you pay her?””
“No.””
I slid Vivian's phone across the table.
He read the anonymous message.
The color drained from his face.
“Where did you get this?””
“Answer the question.””
He returned the phone without meeting my eyes.
“Corisande has always been manipulative. She knows how to make people believe things that aren't true.””
“Then prove she's lying.””
“How?””
“Show me the accounts.””
He stared at me.
“Isolde, my finances are complicated.””
“So are mine. I still showed you everything before we got engaged.””
“That was different.””
“Why?””
“Because I was protecting you.””
I laughed once.
“From your own bank statements?””
“From things you don't understand.””
The room became very quiet.
I felt something inside me go still.
Nathaniel seemed to hear his own words only after they had left his mouth.
He leaned forward.
“That came out wrong.””
“No,” I said.
“I think it came out exactly right.””
He reached for my hand.
This time, I moved it out of reach.
“Did you promise Corisande money?””
He looked toward the window.
“Yes.””
The single word seemed to suck all the air from the room.
“How much?””
“Isolde—”
“How much, Nathaniel?””
He swallowed.
“Three hundred thousand dollars.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“She was going through a difficult situation. I agreed to help her get back on her feet.””
“Five years ago?””
“Yes.””
“And she still thinks you owe her something?””
“It's complicated.””
“Then explain it simply.””
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Corisande's family lost most of their money. Her father had debts, and creditors were threatening to take their house. I helped her settle some of them.””
“You paid her family's debts?””
“Not all of them.””
“And what did she give you in return?””
“Nothing.””
I studied his face.
“Then why did she say you promised her?””
He looked at me, and for the first time since I had known him, I saw genuine fear.
“Because she believes I owe her another chance.””
“Do you?””
“No.””
“Have you seen her recently?””
He didn't answer.
My chest tightened.
“Nathaniel.””
“Once.””
“When?””
“Two months ago.””
I stood.
“Two months ago? We were engaged. We were choosing a venue. You were tasting wedding cakes with me.””
“I know.””
“You met your ex-girlfriend behind my back while planning our wedding?””
“It wasn't romantic.””
“Then what was it?””
“She came to my office. She wanted money.””
“And you gave it to her?””
He looked away.
I felt the room tilt.
“How much?””
“Fifty thousand.””
I stepped backward until the edge of the dresser pressed against my legs.
“You told me you had never spoken to her in years.””
“I was afraid you'd misunderstand.””
“You lied because you knew I would understand perfectly.””
He rose from his chair.
“Isolde, please. I made a mistake. It doesn't mean I don't love you.””
I looked at the man I had married less than four hours earlier.
His wedding ring gleamed under the bedside lamp.
“I need some time alone.””
“Don't do this.””
“Do what?””
“Let her destroy us.””
I shook my head.
“You brought this into our marriage before it even began. Don't blame her for opening the door.””
Nathaniel looked devastated, but I no longer knew whether his expression was genuine.
He reached for his phone on the table.
It lit up before he could pick it up.
A message appeared on the screen.
The sender's name was *C. Vale*.
I read the first line before Nathaniel turned the phone facedown.
You told me you would tell her after the wedding. Now she's asking questions.
My heart stopped.
I lifted my eyes to his.
“What were you going to tell me after the wedding?””
Nathaniel didn't move.
Then his phone vibrated again.
Another message appeared.
This one contained a photograph.
It showed Nathaniel standing outside a courthouse, his arm around Corisande's waist.
May you like
The date printed beneath the image was five months earlier.
And on Corisande's left hand was a ring that looked almost identical to the one now on mine.
