Chapter 2: The Story My Father Told Me
“Who sent that?”” Darius asked.
His voice was too quick.
I locked my phone.
“I don't know.””
“Let me see it.””
“Why?””
He stared at me as if I had insulted him.
“Because someone is trying to ruin your wedding, Nia. Whoever sent that message clearly wants to cause trouble between you and me.””
“Then why are you so nervous?””
His jaw tightened.
For eight months, Darius had been the picture of patience. He had never raised his voice at me, never complained when I canceled dinner, never pressured me when I hesitated to introduce him to my friends.
Now, with the wedding waiting behind us and the man who raised me walking away, Darius looked like someone who had misplaced a carefully rehearsed speech.
“I'm not nervous,” he said.
“I'm angry that somebody would do this to you.””
The orchestra began playing inside the ceremony hall.
Guests were starting to whisper.
My maid of honor, Rachel, appeared at the entrance, her champagne-colored dress swishing around her knees.
“Nia, what's happening? People are asking if the ceremony has been delayed.””
I looked at Darius.
He straightened his jacket.
“Tell them there's a minor financial misunderstanding. We're handling it.””
Rachel glanced at the empty boutonniere spot on his lapel.
Then she looked at me.
“Where's Marcus?””
I couldn't answer.
Darius did it for me.
“He decided to leave.””
Rachel's face hardened.
“Marcus would never leave Nia on her wedding day.””
“He just did,” Darius replied.
“After she replaced him with you?””
“Rachel,” I warned.
She turned to me, disbelief filling her eyes.
“You actually did it?””
I looked down at my bouquet.
“Yes.””
Rachel stared at me for a long moment.
Then she stepped closer and lowered her voice.
“Nia, I love you. But Marcus has been your father in every way that mattered. You know that.””
“I know what he's done for me.””
“Then why did you hurt him like that?””
The question landed harder than I expected.
Because Darius had spent eight months telling me that blood mattered. That he had missed my first steps, my first day of school, my first heartbreak, my graduation.
He spoke about these things as though they were debts I could repay with one walk down an aisle.
He had even shown me a photograph of himself holding me as a baby, his face pressed against my tiny head.
“I missed so much,” he had said that afternoon.
“I can't get those years back, Nia. I just want one chance to be your dad.””
I'd cried.
I'd hugged him.
And I'd promised myself I would make room for him.
Somewhere along the way, making room for him had become taking something away from Marcus.
“I thought it would mean something to him,” I whispered.
Rachel's expression softened.
“What?””
“Walking me down the aisle. I thought it would show him that I forgive him.””
Rachel looked at Darius.
Then back at me.
“Forgive him for what, exactly?””
Before I could answer, Darius caught my elbow.
“We don't need to do this in front of everyone.””
He guided me toward a small private room beside the reception hall.
Rachel followed us inside.
The room smelled of fresh paint and roses. A rack of bridesmaid dresses stood against one wall. My wedding shoes waited beside a box of tissues on the dressing table.
Darius shut the door.
“All right,” he said, removing his cuff links and setting them down.
“Let's solve the actual problem.””
I stared at him.
“The actual problem?””
“The money.””
He pulled out his phone and began tapping the screen.
“How much do you have in savings?””
“Why?””
“Because we need to know what we're working with.””
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
“Darius, I thought you said you wanted to help pay for the wedding.””
“I did. But Marcus insisted on handling the big expenses. He made it very clear he wanted control.””
“He offered to pay.””
“And now he's using it against you.””
“No.”” I shook my head.
“He offered to pay because he wanted to.””
Darius looked up.
“Then why did he withdraw everything?””
“Because I took the boutonniere off his jacket.””
The room went silent.
Darius blinked.
I had never heard myself say it so plainly.
I had humiliated Marcus in front of his friends, his relatives, my fiancé's family, and two hundred wedding guests. I'd chosen a man who had spent most of my life absent and made the man who had raised me watch.
Darius slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Your stepfather is an emotional man. He'll calm down.””
“He wasn't emotional. He was hurt.””
“Same thing.””
“No, it isn't.””
He stared at me.
For the first time, I saw irritation flash across his face.
“Nia, you're about to get married. You can't spend your life worrying about a man who refuses to accept that your biological father has returned.””
I recoiled.
“Marcus never refused anything.””
“He refused to let me be part of your life.””
“He didn't even know where you were for most of it.””
Darius's eyes narrowed.
“That is what he told you.””
The room seemed to shrink.
“What does that mean?””
He rubbed his forehead and sighed.
“I shouldn't have to explain this today. But if we're going to build a future, you need to understand that Marcus and I have different versions of the past.””
“What happened the night you left?””
Darius looked toward the door.
For several seconds, I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he sat down.
“Your mother and I were having problems. She wanted to move away, and I didn't agree. We argued. Things got ugly.””
“How ugly?””
“I made mistakes.””
“You've said that before.””
“Because it's true.””
He leaned forward.
“Your mother told me I would never see you again if I didn't leave. She threatened to destroy me in court. I was young, Nia.
I had no money for lawyers. Marcus had a good job, a stable home, and a way of making people believe whatever he wanted.””
I stared at him.
“Marcus wouldn't do that.””
“You don't know what he was like back then.””
The words from the anonymous message echoed in my mind.
Ask Marcus why he never told you what happened the night Darius left.
“What happened that night?”” I asked again.
Darius stood abruptly.
“Your mother threw me out. Marcus helped her. That's what happened.””
“But you told me you left because you thought it was best for me.””
He paused.
“I did.””
“Which is it?””
His mouth opened, then closed.
Before he could answer, someone knocked.
Rachel entered without waiting for permission.
“The venue manager needs a decision. We have thirty minutes before they release the ceremony space.””
Darius exhaled sharply.
“Tell him we're proceeding.””
Rachel folded her arms.
“With what money?””
“I'll handle it.””
She raised an eyebrow.
“You just told Nia you didn't have the funds.””
“I said we needed to discuss it. I didn't say I couldn't pay.””
He pulled a card from his wallet and handed it to Rachel.
“Give this to the manager. Ask him to run the balance.””
Rachel didn't take it.
“Are you sure?””
“Yes.””
She finally accepted the card.
After she left, I looked at Darius.
“You can pay forty-seven thousand dollars?””
“Not all at once.””
“Then why did you say you could?””
“Because I'm trying to save your wedding.””
I sat down heavily.
The dress suddenly felt too tight around my ribs.
“Marcus paid the deposits, didn't he?””
“Yes.””
“And all the arrangements?””
“Yes, Nia. We've established that.””
“Then what did you pay for?””
His face darkened.
“I paid for your engagement ring. I paid for your dress alterations. I paid for the photographer's travel expenses.””
The photographer's travel expenses had been twelve hundred dollars.
Marcus had paid more than eighty thousand toward the wedding.
I knew because I'd helped him organize the receipts three months earlier. He had spread them across his kitchen table, carefully separating invoices into neat piles while I sat beside him eating the chocolate chip cookies he always kept in a blue tin.
When I'd asked why he was paying for so much, he'd smiled.
“Because you only get married once, kiddo.””
I had laughed.
“You don't know that.””
“Then I hope whoever comes after this one has a better financial plan.””
I'd thrown a cookie at him.
He'd caught it and eaten it.
That memory hurt more than the cancellation paperwork.
“Why didn't you tell me you couldn't pay?”” I asked Darius.
“Because I thought we'd find a solution.””
“You made it sound as though you had everything under control.””
“I was trying to keep you calm.””
I looked at his expensive tuxedo, his polished shoes, the gold watch on his wrist.
“Where did you get the money for all this?””
He stared at me.
“What?””
“Your apartment. Your car. Your clothes. You told me you had a successful consulting business.””
“I do.””
“What kind of consulting?””
His expression turned cold.
“Are you interrogating me now?””
I stood.
“I'm asking you questions.””
“And I'm telling you that your stepfather has spent years making himself look like a saint while treating me like dirt.””
He moved toward me.
“Nia, listen to me. I came back because I love you. I don't want your money.
I don't want your house. I want my daughter.””
“Then why does everything feel like a transaction?””
He went still.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I wasn't going to show you this today.””
He handed it to me.
It was a printed email, dated three weeks earlier.
The sender was Marcus.
The recipient was Darius.
The subject line read: *Nia's Wedding — Final Arrangements.*
I unfolded the page.
The email was short.
Darius,
I have honored my commitment to Nia's wedding expenses. I will not fund any additional requests outside the original agreement. Please stop contacting the vendors directly or representing yourself as authorized to make changes to the arrangements.
Marcus Bennett.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Darius.
“You've been contacting the vendors?””
He snatched the page back.
“Only to make sure everything was in order.””
“Why would Marcus need to tell you to stop?””
“Because he's controlling.””
“Darius.””
He shoved the email into his pocket.
“I was trying to help.””
A knock sounded at the door again.
This time, the venue manager entered with Rachel behind him.
“Miss Bennett,” he said carefully, “we've attempted to authorize the card Mr. Cole provided. Unfortunately, the transaction has been declined.””
My heart stopped.
Darius's face went pale.
“That can't be right.””
The manager held out the card.
“I'm afraid it is.””
Darius snatched it from him.
“Run it again.””
“We've already attempted it twice.””
“Then use another terminal.””
“Mr. Cole—”
“Do it!””
The manager stepped back.
Rachel looked at me with an expression I couldn't bear.
Then my phone vibrated again.
Another message from the unknown number.
This time, there was a photograph attached.
It showed Darius standing outside a bank, shaking hands with a woman in a gray suit.
Beneath the image was a single sentence.
*Ask your father what he borrowed against your mother's inheritance.*
I stared at the screen.
My mother's inheritance.
The money she had left me when she died.
Money Marcus had told me was safely invested until I turned thirty.
Money I had never touched.
Slowly, I raised my eyes toward Darius.
May you like
He was staring at my phone.
And this time, he didn't bother pretending he wasn't afraid.
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