Static filled the ballroom.
Then William’s voice emerged, older than Clara remembered, roughened by fatigue.
“My name is William Jennings. I am recording this because I no longer trust my own courage.”
Clara gripped the edge of the altar.
Michael’s lips parted.
The recording continued.
“Olivia Mercer has admitted to taking money from clients through forged loan documents. Peter Hale arranged the accounts. Anna Bell has copies of everything. Tonight Olivia told me that if I report them, they will hurt Michael. I do not know whether the threat is real, but I cannot take the chance.”
Olivia moved toward the recorder.
Daniel caught her wrist.
She stared at his hand.
“Let me go.”
“No.”
The recording clicked, and William’s voice became softer.
“Clara, if you hear this, I am sorry. I should have told you. I thought I could protect our son by carrying this myself. If Olivia comes near Michael again, give this to the police. Do not believe her apologies. She only apologizes when she has run out of choices.”
The tape ended.
For several seconds, the only sound was the faint rattle of the chandelier crystals.
Michael looked at Olivia.
“Did you come into my life because of my mother’s money?”
Olivia’s expression broke open.
“No.”
“Did you know who I was?”
“I knew your family had money.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
She looked toward Clara, then back to him.
“I knew who you were.”
“How?”
“I saw you once in Charleston. You were with your father. I was supposed to leave town that week.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I thought I could fix it.”
“You thought you could fix stealing from my parents by marrying me?”
