Chapter 4: The Message About the Missing Money
Marcus was faster.
He picked up the phone before Simone could reach it.
“Give that back!”” she snapped.
He glanced at the screen.
Then his expression changed.
I couldn't see the entire message from where I stood, but I could see the words displayed beneath Tasha's name.
Did you move the eighteen thousand five hundred dollars? Marcus is asking me for the receipt. You told me Darius had been paid.
The ballroom seemed to tilt.
Marcus read it again.
Then he looked at Simone.
“What money?””
“That's private.””
“What money, Simone?””
She reached across him.
He moved the phone away.
“Don't touch me.””
The words were quiet.
They were also the most frightening thing I'd heard from him all night.
My sister froze.
Marcus had never raised his voice at her. I had seen him carry her handbag, fetch her coffee, and apologize when other people bumped into him.
He was not a man who looked for fights.
Which made his anger harder to ignore.
“Eighteen thousand five hundred dollars,” he repeated.
“You told me you paid Darius eighteen thousand five hundred dollars for the wedding catering.””
Simone stared at him.
“You told me that amount was for the food, the service, and the equipment. You said you had everything under control.””
She looked around at the guests.
“Can we please discuss this somewhere private?””
“No.””
“Marcus!””
“No. You made my family watch your brother get accused of stealing from you. You made one hundred and fifty people believe the caterer had failed to deliver food he was never contracted to provide.””
He held up the phone.
“Now I want to know where the money went.””
Simone's eyes filled with tears.
I had seen those tears before.
They appeared whenever the truth threatened to cost her something.
“Darling, please. Tasha doesn't know the full story.””
“Then tell me the full story.””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
A chair scraped behind us.
Tasha herself stood near the ballroom entrance, still wearing her dusty-blue bridesmaid dress. She was holding a small silver clutch, and her face was tight with concern.
She had been trying to get through to Simone for the past ten minutes.
Apparently, she had finally realized the phone was in the wrong hands.
“Marcus,” Tasha said carefully, “I think you should read the whole conversation.””
Simone spun around.
“Tasha, I swear to God—”
“I'm not doing this to hurt you.””
“Then shut your mouth!””
Several guests gasped.
Tasha flinched but held her ground.
“I've spent six months helping you plan this wedding,” she said.
“I helped you compare venues. I collected quotations. I chased the florist when she missed deadlines. And I listened when you told me everything was paid for.””
She swallowed.
“But you asked me to tell Marcus the catering was confirmed, even though I never saw a final contract.””
Simone took a step toward her.
“You promised you wouldn't interfere.””
“I promised to be your maid of honor. I didn't promise to lie to your husband.””
“Fiancé,” Marcus corrected automatically.
Then he looked down at the phone again.
“Not for much longer, apparently.””
My mother grabbed his arm.
“Marcus, please. You need to calm down.””
He gently removed her hand.
“Evelyn, you told me the catering was paid.””
She shook her head.
“Simone told me that.””
“And you believed her?””
My mother's eyes glistened.
“I wanted to.””
Those four words landed harder than a denial.
Marcus stared at her.
Then he handed the phone to Tasha.
“Show me the conversation.””
Tasha unlocked her own phone and began scrolling.
“I sent Simone several messages over the past month because I thought something wasn't right,” she explained.
“She kept telling me the accounts were being handled.””
“Which accounts?”” I asked.
She looked at me.
“The wedding funds.””
Marcus stiffened.
“What wedding funds?””
Tasha hesitated.
It was the hesitation of someone realizing that the secret she had been helping to protect was far larger than she'd understood.
“Simone told me you had transferred money into a separate account to pay the vendors,” she said.
“She said the full amount was eighteen thousand five hundred dollars for catering alone.””
Marcus stared at her.
“I transferred eighteen thousand five hundred dollars to Simone three weeks ago.””
Simone shut her eyes.
“And you told me you used it to pay Darius?”” I asked.
“She said she paid the invoice,” Marcus replied.
“I never received an invoice from her.””
“I know that now.””
May you like
His voice cracked on the last word.
He
