Chapter 6: The Plan He Already Had
Ruth drove me home.
I sat in the passenger seat in my wedding dress because changing had felt like one decision too many.
She didn't play music.
She didn't fill the silence.
She just drove, and I watched the streets pass, and somewhere on the dual carriageway I started to think clearly for the first time since I'd seen the red dress at the garden's edge.
"He'll come to the flat," I said.
"Probably tonight."
"I need to be ready for that."
Ruth glanced at me.
"What does ready look like?"
"I need to know what I'm dealing with before he gets there.
The will, the estate, the timeline — all of it." I picked up my phone.
Evan had called twice more.
I didn't listen to the voicemails.
"I need a solicitor."
"On a Saturday?"
"Monday, then.
But tonight I need to write everything down while it's still clear."
We pulled up outside my building.
The lights in the flat were off.
Evan had a key — I registered that thought and filed it.
"Stay with me tonight," I said.
"Already planning on it," Ruth said.
We went upstairs.
I changed out of the dress, folded it without ceremony, and put it on the top shelf of the wardrobe.
Ruth made tea.
I sat at the kitchen table with a notepad and wrote down everything Vanessa had told me — the will, the two-year condition, the timeline, the letters Evan had intercepted, the blocked number, the custody filing date.
When I finished, I read it back.
It was worse written down than it had been spoken aloud.
The buzzer sounded at half past nine.
Ruth looked at me.
I nodded.
I pressed the intercom.
"What do you want, Evan?"
"I want to talk.
Please.
Just five minutes."
"Say it through the intercom."
A pause.
"This isn't a conversation for an intercom."
"Then it can wait until Monday when I have a solicitor present."
Another pause, longer this time.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
The pleading note was gone.
"I know you talked to Vanessa.
Whatever she told you — she has her own reasons for being involved in this.
She's not as innocent as she looked today."
"Come back Monday," I said.
"With your own solicitor."
"You're making a mistake."
"Goodnight, Evan."
I released the intercom button.
Ruth was watching me from the kitchen doorway.
"He'll try something else," she said.
"I know." I sat back down at the table.
"Vanessa said he already has another plan.
He has ten months to meet the will's condition.
He's not going to accept that today closed that door."
"What can he actually do?"
"I don't know yet.
That's what worries me." I looked at my notepad.
"He intercepted post.
He blocked numbers on my phone.
He managed information for two years without me noticing." I tapped the pen against the table.
"He's organized.
He's patient.
And he's desperate now in a way he wasn't before."
My phone lit up.
Not Evan this time.
A number I didn't recognize — different from Vanessa's.
I answered it.
"Is this the woman who was supposed to marry Evan Marsh today?" A man's voice.
Older.
Careful.
"Who is this?"
"My name is Gerald Marsh.
I'm Evan's uncle.
I was at the wedding this afternoon." A pause.
"I think we need to meet.
There are things about my brother's will that Evan has not been honest about — not with you, and not with the rest of the family."
I looked at Ruth.
She had heard enough from across the table.
Her eyes were steady on mine.
"When?" I said.
"Tomorrow morning, if you're willing.
I can come to you."
May you like
"Nine o'clock," I said.
"Bring whatever you have."
