The Bride He Thought He Could Destroy

“Step away from her.””

Daniel Mercer's voice came from behind Sebastian.

Our security chief stood at the conservatory entrance with another investigator beside him. Both men wore plain clothes, but their posture made it clear that they weren't there to admire the garden.

Sebastian stopped.

For a moment, his expression was almost comical.

He had arrived expecting to frighten two women into silence.

Instead, he had walked into a meeting he couldn't control.

“This is a private family matter,” he said.

Daniel didn't move.

“Then you shouldn't have brought two additional men onto private property without permission.””

Sebastian glanced over his shoulder.

The two men behind him had stopped several yards away. One wore a gray coat and carried a leather briefcase. The other was broad-shouldered, with a small earpiece tucked beneath his hair.

“Who are they?”” I asked.

Sebastian ignored me.

“Genevieve, give me the envelope.””

“No.””

“You don't understand what you're holding.””

“I understand that it contains a document with my name on it that I never signed.””

His jaw tightened.

“It's a draft.””

“A draft with a forged signature?””

“You're making accusations you can't prove.””

“Then you'll have no problem explaining it to my attorney.””

He looked at Lavinia.

“You had no right to take that.””

She stood behind me, trembling.

“You told me you were going to protect me.””

“I did protect you.””

“You threatened to take my baby.””

Sebastian's expression hardened.

“Because you were behaving irrationally.””

“You said you'd destroy my life if I told anyone about Northstar.””

He turned sharply toward her.

“Be quiet.””

“No!”” Her voice cracked.

“I'm tired of being quiet for you.””

For a second, I saw the woman who had stood in my bridal suite with a triumphant smile.

Now she looked frightened, but she was no longer pretending that Sebastian's behavior was acceptable.

He stepped toward her.

Daniel moved between them.

“That's far enough.””

Sebastian laughed without humor.

“Do you know who I am?””

Daniel's expression didn't change.

“Yes. A man who needs to leave this property before this conversation becomes more complicated.””

“This property belongs to my family.””

“The public parking area doesn't. Neither does the road. You can continue this discussion with counsel present.””

Sebastian looked at me.

“You've made a terrible mistake.””

I tightened my grip on the envelope.

“No. I made a terrible mistake when I believed you.””

His face twisted.

“You think your father can protect you forever?””

“No,” I said.

“But I think the truth can survive you.””

For several seconds, he stared at me.

Then his gaze shifted toward the envelope.

Something in his expression changed.

He stopped looking angry.

He looked frightened.

“Genevieve,” he said quietly, “whatever Lavinia told you, she's lying.””

Lavinia let out a bitter laugh.

“Now you care what I say?””

“I'm trying to keep you from ruining your own life.””

“You already did that.””

He ignored her.

“The documents in that envelope are incomplete. You don't know what you're looking at.””

“Then tell me.””

He opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

Daniel stepped toward the door.

“Mr. Ashworth, we're leaving now.””

Sebastian's face reddened.

“This isn't over.””

“No,” I replied.

“It isn't.””

He walked away with the two men.

But before he disappeared behind the garden wall, he turned back.

“You should ask your father what happened to your mother.””

The words struck so unexpectedly that I couldn't move.

My mother had died nine years earlier after a sudden medical emergency. My father had always told me that she had collapsed at home, been taken to the hospital, and never recovered.

There had never been anything mysterious about it.

At least, I'd never thought there was.

“What does my mother have to do with this?”” I called.

Sebastian smiled faintly.

“Ask him.””

Then he disappeared into the darkness.

Lavinia covered her mouth.

Daniel looked at me.

“Are you all right?””

I shook my head.

But the truth was that I no longer knew what that question meant.

I had spent three days discovering that my fiancé had lied about his affair, my family's merger, and a company registered in my name.

Now he had dragged my dead mother into the middle of it.

And I couldn't tell whether it was another cruel manipulation or the first hint of something worse.

We drove directly to my father's office.

Rebecca was waiting in the conference room when we arrived. She took the envelope from me, placed it inside a clear evidence sleeve, and began photographing each page.

Lavinia sat beside the window, her hands folded over her stomach.

She had agreed to speak with our attorney, but she refused to answer any questions until she knew whether Sebastian could access her bank accounts.

Rebecca explained that we couldn't guarantee what a court might ultimately decide, but we could document the threats she described and help her obtain independent legal advice.

For the first time that evening, Lavinia seemed to understand that someone was willing to listen without demanding that she prove her loyalty.

Then Rebecca reached the last page of the shareholder agreement.

She stopped.

“What is it?”” Dad asked.

Rebecca turned the page toward us.

A paragraph at the bottom referred to a separate instrument called the Eleanor Winslow Legacy Trust.

My breath caught.

“That's my grandmother's trust.””

Dad leaned forward.

“Yes.””

I looked at him.

“You knew about this?””

“Of course. Your grandmother established it years ago to protect certain family assets.””

“Why is it mentioned in a document about Northstar?””

Rebecca continued reading.

“The agreement appears to reference a potential transfer of beneficial interests from the trust into the proposed holding company. But this page alone doesn't establish that any transfer occurred.””

“Could Sebastian access the trust?”” I asked.

“Not legitimately without the necessary authority,” she replied.

“We need to review the trust instrument, the trustee records, and any related filings.””

Dad rubbed his forehead.

“Eleanor's trust was established long before the Ashworths came into the picture.””

“Then why would they know about it?”” I asked.

He didn't answer.

Instead, he looked at the document again.

“Your grandmother's estate planning was handled by an attorney named Arthur Bell. He retired several years ago.””

Rebecca made a note.

“We'll contact the firm that holds the records.””

Lavinia suddenly spoke.

“Sebastian knew about the trust before he proposed.””

Everyone turned toward her.

“How?”” I asked.

“He told me the Winslows had assets that weren't included in the company's public filings. He said the marriage would give him access to information about them.””

Dad's expression darkened.

“Did he tell you what assets?””

“No. Just that your grandmother had left something valuable behind.””

I stared at the document.

My grandmother had been wealthy, but she had never treated money as the most important thing in the world. She had taught me to recognize the difference between people who admired what you had and people who valued who you were.

Sebastian had quoted her advice to me once.

Never let anyone make you feel small for protecting what belongs to you.

I'd thought he understood her.

Now I wondered whether he'd simply been studying the person I trusted most.

Rebecca closed the folder.

“We need to preserve every version of this agreement, every email, and every communication involving Northstar. We also need to determine whether the trust was ever approached by anyone claiming to represent Genevieve.””

Dad nodded.

“Do whatever is necessary.””

Then he turned toward me.

“There's something I need to tell you.””

His voice was different.

Not angry.

Not controlled.

Afraid.

He asked Rebecca and Martin to leave us alone for a few minutes.

When the door closed, he sat beside me.

“Your grandmother established the Eleanor Winslow Legacy Trust when your mother was alive,” he said.

“It was designed to protect assets for future generations. Your mother was one of its original beneficiaries.””

I frowned.

“I thought the trust was created for me.””

“It was amended after your mother died.””

“Amended how?””

Dad looked down at his hands.

“The trust included a clause that allowed certain assets to pass to you once you turned twenty-six, provided the trustee verified your identity and approved the transfer.””

My twenty-sixth birthday had been three months earlier.

I stared at him.

“What assets?””

“That's what we need to establish.””

“Dad, please.””

He drew a slow breath.

“The trust held shares in a private investment company your grandmother helped establish decades ago. Those shares were separate from Winslow Logistics. They were never part of the proposed Ashworth merger.””

“How much were they worth?””

“We haven't had them independently valued in years.””

“An estimate?””

He hesitated.

“Your grandmother believed the investment could eventually be worth more than the logistics company itself.””

I sat back.

For years, I'd assumed my inheritance would consist of a house, some jewelry, and a modest investment portfolio.

I had never imagined that my grandmother had placed something much larger beyond my reach.

“Why didn't you tell me?””

“Because the trust was private, and because I didn't want you to grow up thinking your future was guaranteed by money you hadn't earned.””

I understood that.

But I also understood why Sebastian had become interested in it.

“Does he know I'm twenty-six?””

“Yes.””

“Does he know the trust could have transferred assets to me after my birthday?””

Dad looked at me.

“Apparently.””

I felt sick.

The merger might not have been the real prize.

It might have been the distraction.

Sebastian had wanted to marry me, gain access to my family's business, and place a financial guarantee in my name.

But if he had also discovered the trust, he might have been trying to position himself to control assets worth far more than the forty million dollars he'd demanded.

“Who manages the trust now?”” I asked.

“An independent trustee.””

“Who?””

Dad paused.

“Arthur Bell's firm appointed a successor several years ago. I believe her name is Margaret Hale.””

I frowned.

“Why does that name sound familiar?””

“Because Margaret handled some of the paperwork after your mother's death.””

I remembered a woman in a navy suit visiting our house when I was seventeen. She had spoken to my father in the study while I sat in the kitchen, listening to the rain tap against the windows.

I'd assumed she was an insurance representative.

“Can we contact her?””

“First thing tomorrow.””

I looked at the clock.

It was nearly eleven.

Tomorrow felt impossibly far away.

My phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

If you want to know what your grandmother really left you, stop trusting your father.

I stared at it.

Then another message arrived.

Ask him why he never told you that your mother tried to remove the Ashworths from the trust nine years ago.