Chapter 2: The Secret My Father Tried to Hide
I answered the phone with trembling fingers.
“Mrs. Whitmore?””
“Camille, darling, where are you?”” Evelyn Whitmore asked. Her voice sounded unusually tight.
“The guests are seated, the musicians are ready, and Derek says you've had some sort of emotional episode.””
I looked at my father.
His uneven hair. His reddened eyes. The trembling fingers still wrapped around mine.
“An emotional episode?”” I repeated.
Evelyn sighed.
“I'm sure whatever happened has been exaggerated. Derek can be impatient, but he's a good man. Please return to the bridal suite before people start asking questions.””
“Your son forced my father to his knees and let Vanessa shave his head.””
Silence.
Then Evelyn said, “What?””
“You heard me.””
“Oh, Camille, there must be some misunderstanding.””
“Would you call it a misunderstanding if someone did that to your father?””
Another pause.
“Robert has always been sensitive,” she replied.
“And Vanessa can be rather playful. We shouldn't let a childish incident destroy something so important.””
I almost laughed.
My father had spent thirty years repairing broken machines in a factory. He had come home with burned hands, aching shoulders, and grease beneath his fingernails so that I could attend the best school he could afford.
He had sold my mother's wedding ring to pay for my first year of college.
And this woman called him sensitive.
“I'm not marrying your son,” I said.
“Camille, don't be foolish. There are contracts involved. Your families have made commitments.””
“My wedding vows aren't a business contract.””
“You may regret this decision.””
“Then I'll regret it on my own terms.””
I ended the call.
For several seconds, I stood in the hallway listening to the distant wedding music drifting through the ballroom doors.
Everything had been planned for eighteen months.
The flowers had arrived from California. The cake had been assembled in a refrigerated truck. My dress had been fitted six times. My father had practiced his walk down the aisle with me in our living room, apologizing every time he stepped on the train.
He'd joked that he might cry harder than I would.
Now he stood beside me with half his hair missing.
“Let's go home,” I whispered.
He nodded, but his expression remained troubled.
“Not yet, sweetheart.””
I turned to him.
“What did you find in Derek's office?””
He glanced around the empty hallway.
“Some papers. I didn't understand all of them at first.””
“What papers?””
“Copies of property records. Bank transfers. Your mother's old insurance documents.””
My stomach tightened.
My mother, Eleanor Brooks, had died seven years earlier in a car accident. The insurance payout had helped my father keep our house and cover the medical debts she'd left behind.
Why would Derek have those documents?
“Dad, why were you in his office?””
“Because he asked me to bring a folder to the hotel last night. I found the papers when I opened the wrong drawer.””
“And you didn't tell me?””
“I was going to.”” His eyes filled with shame.
“I wanted to be certain before I put doubts in your mind on your wedding day.””
Before I could respond, the dressing room door slammed open behind us.
Derek strode into the hallway, followed by Vanessa, who had wrapped a white hotel robe around her ink-stained dress.
Two security guards hurried after them.
“Camille!”” Derek called.
“We're going downstairs. Now.””
I tightened my arm around Dad.
“No.””
Derek stopped a few feet away.
“You're embarrassing yourself. People are already asking why the ceremony is delayed.””
“Tell them the truth.””
His jaw clenched.
“You want the truth? Fine. Your father came into my dressing room uninvited, knocked over a bottle of champagne, and became aggressive when I asked him to apologize.””
My father stared at him in disbelief.
“That isn't what happened.””
Derek pointed a finger at him.
“Don't speak unless you're spoken to.””
I stepped between them.
“Point that finger at my father again, and you'll lose the hand.””
One guard shifted uneasily.
Vanessa let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
“Oh, this is unbelievable. You're choosing him over Derek? After everything Derek has done for you?””
“What exactly has Derek done for me?””
Vanessa exchanged a quick glance with him.
It was brief, but I caught it.
Derek's expression hardened.
“I paid for your father's medical bills last winter,” he said.
“I helped him when his workshop was struggling. I thought you'd remember that before throwing a tantrum.””
I turned toward Dad.
His face had gone pale.
“Dad?””
He looked down.
“Derek offered to help when the workshop was behind on payments,” he admitted quietly.
“I accepted a loan.””
Derek smiled.
“There. Now we're getting somewhere.””
“How much?”” I asked.
“Forty thousand dollars,” Dad whispered.
The number hit me like a physical blow.
My father had never asked me for money. Not once.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I knew you'd worry. And Derek said it could be settled after the wedding.””
Derek spread his hands.
“Exactly. I was helping your family. And this is how you repay me?””
“You don't get to buy the right to humiliate someone,” I said.
“I'm not asking for gratitude. I'm asking for basic respect.””
“You should have tried giving some.””
His smile disappeared.
He pulled a folded document from his jacket and held it out.
“Your father signed an agreement. If the loan isn't repaid, the collateral can be claimed. You know what that collateral is?””
Dad's lips parted.
“No,” he whispered.
Derek's eyes glittered.
“The house.””
For a moment, the hallway seemed to tilt.
Our house wasn't just a building. It was where my mother had planted roses along the front fence, where Dad had taught me to ride a bicycle, where we'd eaten Thanksgiving dinner alone after she died.
It was the only home we'd ever known.
“You told me the loan was secured against your workshop,” I said to Dad.
“I thought it was.””
Derek tucked the paper back into his jacket.
“Your father should read what he signs.””
I stared at the man I had loved for three years.
He had humiliated my father, threatened our home, and then used his own financial assistance as a weapon.
But something about the way he held that document bothered me.
“Show me the agreement,” I demanded.
“Not here.””
“Then give it to me.””
“No.””
I took a step forward.
Derek leaned close enough that I could smell the expensive cologne I'd once chosen for his birthday.
“You're going to marry me,” he whispered.
“Because if you don't, your father loses everything.””
Dad grabbed my arm.
“Camille, don't.””
I looked at him, then back at Derek.
“You think a piece of paper can force me to become your wife?””
“I think you love your father enough to make the right decision.””
I had never hated anyone more.
Before I could answer, the elevator doors opened.
A man in a charcoal suit stepped out carrying a leather briefcase.
He looked directly at my father.
“Mr. Brooks?””
Dad stiffened.
“Yes?””
The man approached and handed him a sealed envelope.
“My name is Daniel Price. I'm the attorney who handled your wife's estate.””
I stared at him.
“My mother's estate?””
Daniel nodded.
“I'm sorry to interrupt, but your father contacted my office last night regarding a document he discovered. I believe there's been a serious misunderstanding about the ownership of your family home.””
Derek's face changed.
For the first time that morning, he looked genuinely afraid.
Daniel noticed.
May you like
Then he turned to my father and said the words that made Derek take a step backward.
“Mr. Brooks, the original trust document names Camille as the sole beneficiary. And according to the records I reviewed this morning, someone has been attempting to transfer that property without her knowledge.””
