Not anymore.
I looked at Lincoln.
“What do you want to do?”
He smiled.
“For once?”
He held out his hand.
“Whatever you want.”
I looked down at his hand.
Then at the hotel.
Then at the simple wedding ring he’d given me.
I took his hand.
“Let’s go.”
We returned to the hotel.
But this time, I didn’t arrive through the back entrance.
The chauffeur drove directly to the main entrance.
The moment I stepped out, cameras turned toward me.
Dozens of people were gathered behind barricades.
Reporters.
Investors.
Guests.
Employees.
Everyone seemed to know something had happened.
A reporter shouted:
“Ms. Mercer!”
Another:
“Are you Richard Cross’s daughter-in-law?”
I froze.
Lincoln stepped beside me.
The cameras exploded.
“Is your fiancé really Lincoln Cross?”
“Did you know about the investigation?”
“Is Kendrick Mercer being arrested?”
I looked at Lincoln.
He nodded.
We walked inside.
The ballroom doors opened.
And the scene before me looked nothing like the celebration my family had planned.
Guests stood in clusters.
Some were whispering.
Some were leaving.
Two attorneys stood beside Richard Cross.
And near the center of the room stood Kendrick.
His face was pale.
Chelsea stood beside him.
Her expensive white dress was stained with champagne.
My mother was crying.
My father looked furious.
Then everyone noticed me.
Silence fell.
Chelsea stared at my dress.
Then at Lincoln.
Her eyes widened.
“You…”
Lincoln calmly walked beside me.
Chelsea looked at him.
“You’re not a security guard.”
Lincoln didn’t answer.
Kendrick suddenly stepped forward.
“You lied to everyone.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He pointed at Lincoln.
“You knew about this!”
Lincoln’s expression hardened.
“I didn’t know you were committing fraud until the investigation began.”
Kendrick laughed bitterly.
“You think you’re better than me because you were born rich?”
Lincoln’s voice was calm.
“No.”
He looked directly at him.
“I think you’re responsible for your own choices.”
Kendrick’s face twisted.
Then he turned toward my father.
“Howard, tell them!”
My father said nothing.
Kendrick’s voice rose.
“Tell them you knew!”
The entire room went silent.
I looked at Dad.
“Knew what?”
My father’s face changed.
Kendrick realized too late that he had said too much.
“What did you know?”
Dad wouldn’t look at me.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.”
He finally whispered:
“Kendrick told me about the investment.”
“And?”
“I thought Cross Global was going to invest.”
“Did you verify it?”
“No.”
The answer struck harder than I expected.
My father had built his entire career on verifying numbers.
But when Kendrick promised access to a billionaire company, Dad had believed him.
Because he wanted to believe.
Then Richard Cross spoke.
“Howard.”
My father looked up.
Richard’s expression was cold.
“You weren’t the only one who believed him.”
He held up a folder.
“There are eleven investors in this room who transferred money because they believed Cross Global had committed to Kendrick’s fund.”
The room erupted.
Questions.
Shouting.
Accusations.
Kendrick backed away.
Then two investigators entered.
One approached him.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Kendrick turned.
“You’re under investigation for financial fraud and falsification of corporate documents.”
Chelsea began crying.
“No.”
The investigator continued.
“You’ll need to come with us.”
Kendrick looked at my sister.
“Chelsea…”
She stepped away from him.
For the first time, I saw fear on her face.
Real fear.
Then she looked at me.
“Abby.”
I didn’t answer.
She walked toward me.
“Please.”
I stared at my sister.
The woman who had stolen my wedding date.
The woman who had convinced our entire family not to attend.
The woman who had told me that marrying Lincoln was beneath us.
And now she was standing in front of me with tears running down her face.
“I didn’t know everything,” she whispered.
I believed her.
But that didn’t mean I forgave her.
She grabbed my hand.
“I thought you were going to ruin everything.”
I gently pulled my hand away.
“You ruined it yourself.”
She began sobbing.
My mother moved toward me.
“Abby, please don’t leave us like this.”
I looked at her.
“You already left me.”
She froze.
“When you all chose her ballroom over my wedding, you made your choice.”
My father lowered his head.
“I was wrong.”
I wanted those words for years.
But standing there, I realized something.
Sometimes an apology arrives after you’ve stopped needing it.
I turned toward Lincoln.
He was waiting.
Not demanding.
Not rescuing.
Just waiting.
I took his hand.
“We still have a wedding to attend.”
He smiled.
“Our wedding?”
I smiled back.
“Our wedding.”
And we walked out.
But neither of us noticed the woman standing near the ballroom entrance.
She had been watching Lincoln the entire time.
She stepped forward as we reached the lobby.
“Mr. Cross.”
Lincoln stopped.
The woman handed him a sealed envelope.
“Your father told me to give you this.”
Lincoln looked at the envelope.
“What’s inside?”
“I don’t know.”
He opened it.
His expression changed immediately.
I looked at him.
“What?”
He handed me the letter.
There were only three handwritten lines.
Lincoln,
Your investigation is finished.
Now you need to know why I originally sent you to that building.
I looked at Lincoln.
He looked back at me.
And for the first time since I had met him, I saw something in his eyes that frightened me.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Whatever had brought Lincoln into my life might have been far more complicated than either of us had ever imagined.
PART 4
The woman disappeared into the crowd before I could ask another question.
I looked down at the letter again.
Your investigation is finished.
Now you need to know why I originally sent you to that building.
I read the words twice.
Then a third time.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Lincoln didn’t answer.
He folded the letter carefully and placed it back inside the envelope.
“I don’t know yet.”
“That isn’t true.”
He looked at me.
“You recognized something.”
He hesitated.
Then he sighed.
“There was a time when my father asked me to work at your building for a reason.”
My heart sank.
“What reason?”
“To watch someone.”
“Who?”
“Kendrick.”
I stared at him.
“But you said you didn’t know he was my sister’s husband.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why was he being watched?”
Lincoln looked toward the ballroom.
“Because Kendrick had been approaching Cross Global employees for months. He was asking questions about internal investment information. Nothing illegal had been proven at that point, but my father was suspicious.”
“And he sent you?”
“He didn’t exactly send me.”
“What does that mean?”
Lincoln gave a faint smile.
“My father knew I was looking for a way to prove I could succeed without using the family name. He told me there was a security position available at one of the buildings where several Cross Global subsidiaries operated.”
“So he put you there.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling you everything?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“Then our relationship started because of an investigation.”
“No.”
Lincoln stepped closer.
“The investigation brought me to that building.”
He took my hand.
“You brought me into your life.”
I wanted to believe him.
And somehow, I did.
Because I remembered every ordinary moment.
The coffee.
The walks.
The terrible sandwich he made me one Saturday.
The way he always noticed when I was tired.
The way he never once asked about my father’s money.
None of that had been an investigation.
That had been us.
Then Lincoln’s phone rang.
It was his father.
He answered.
“Dad?”
Richard Cross’s voice came through the speaker.
“Bring Abby.”
Lincoln looked at me.
“Where?”
“Home.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Your father’s home?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard was silent for several seconds.
“Because there is something you both need to know.”
The Cross estate was unlike anything I had ever seen.
It wasn’t simply a mansion.
It was an enormous property overlooking the Atlantic, surrounded by stone walls, gardens, and trees that seemed older than the house itself.
But I barely noticed any of it.
My mind was still stuck on one sentence.
There is something you both need to know.
Richard met us at the front entrance.
He didn’t look like the billionaire from magazine covers.
He looked like a father.
Tired.
Older.
Almost vulnerable.
He looked at me.
“Abby.”
“Mr. Cross.”
He smiled slightly.
“You can call me Richard.”
I nodded.
We followed him into a private study.
The walls were covered with books and old photographs.
Richard closed the door.
Then he placed a thick file on the desk.
“This began twenty-two years ago.”
Lincoln frowned.
“What did?”
“An internal theft.”
Richard opened the file.
“A senior executive at Cross Global stole confidential information and sold it to competitors.”
Lincoln crossed his arms.
“What does this have to do with us?”
Richard looked at me.
“Everything.”
I felt cold.
“Why me?”
Richard pulled out an old photograph.
It showed several executives standing outside a Cross Global office.
He pointed toward one man.
“This was the executive who stole the information.”
Then he pointed to a woman standing beside him.
“And this was his assistant.”
I stared at the photograph.
Something about the woman’s face seemed familiar.
Then I realized why.
She looked like my mother.
I picked up the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Richard’s voice became quiet.
“Diana Mercer.”
My fingers tightened around the picture.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Lincoln.
He looked just as shocked.
“No,” I whispered.
Richard continued.
“Your mother wasn’t the criminal.”
I exhaled.
“She was the assistant who discovered the theft.”
“What happened?”
“She reported it.”
“And?”
“The executive threatened her.”
My mother had never talked about working for anyone before marrying my father.
Never.
Richard continued.
“She resigned. Shortly afterward, she met your father.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I promised your mother I wouldn’t.”
I looked up.
“Why?”
Richard leaned back.
“Because the executive disappeared before he could be prosecuted.”
Lincoln frowned.
“Who was he?”
Richard opened another file.
The name on the page made me stop breathing.
Thomas Mercer.
I looked at Richard.
“Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My family?”
Richard nodded.
“Your father’s older brother.”
I couldn’t speak.
My father’s brother had stolen from Cross Global.
My mother had discovered it.
And somehow, twenty-two years later, Kendrick had been trying to do something similar.
“What happened to Thomas?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Twenty-one years ago.”
“How?”
“Officially? A boating accident.”
The room became silent.
“Officially?” I repeated.
Richard looked at Lincoln.
“We never proved otherwise.”
Lincoln’s expression hardened.
“You think he was murdered?”
“I think someone was afraid of what he knew.”
I sat down.
This was too much.
My family’s obsession with money.
My father’s business.
Kendrick’s fraud.
My mother’s strange fear of certain questions.
And now a twenty-two-year-old secret.
“What does this have to do with me?”
Richard pushed another document across the desk.
“Your mother kept copies of the documents Thomas stole.”
I stared at him.
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
Lincoln leaned forward.
“Then why bring Abby into this?”
Richard looked at me.
“Because I believe Thomas’s records may have been hidden somewhere connected to your family.”
My heart began pounding.
“My father’s office?”
“Possibly.”
Lincoln looked at me.
“Abby, we don’t have to do this tonight.”
I stood.
“Yes.”
They both looked at me.
“I want to know.”
Richard nodded.
“I thought you would.”
We returned to my father’s office two days later.
The police had already searched Kendrick’s financial records.