Chapter 7: What His Father Knew
"I didn't know," his father said.
"Not for certain.
Not until today, when I went looking." A slow exhale came through the phone.
"But I suspected.
I think I've suspected for a long time and told myself I was wrong."
Ryan sat down.
He hadn't meant to — his legs just found the chair.
"The surveyor's report had her handwriting on the folder tab," his father continued.
"I remembered it because I thought it was strange at the time — why would she have filed it?
But I let it go.
I was busy.
I told myself it didn't mean anything."
"She filed a fake report," Ryan said.
"To stop us buying that house."
"I believe so.
Yes."
"Why?
We wanted that house.
It was a good house.
It was in our budget—"
"It was four streets away from where Lauren's parents live."
The sentence landed in the kitchen like something dropped from a height.
Ryan looked at me.
I hadn't known that.
I'd never known why we'd lost that house.
Ryan had been disappointed for weeks.
I'd told him we'd find something better.
We'd found the apartment instead and I'd thought that was simply how it had worked out.
"She blocked the house," I said quietly, "because it would have put us close to my family."
Ryan turned back to the phone.
"Dad.
What else?"
"I don't know what else.
That's the truth." His father's voice was heavy.
"But I think you need to ask her directly.
And I think — I think I need to be there when you do."
"You'd do that?"
"She's my wife.
I love her.
But what she did to those invitations today — I watched her face when she came back to the car.
She wasn't upset, Ryan.
She was annoyed that it hadn't worked." A pause.
"That's not the woman I thought I married.
Or maybe it is and I've been looking the other way for too long."
Ryan pressed two fingers to his forehead.
"I need a day.
I need to think."
"Take the time you need.
But don't take too long.
She's already calling people."
Ryan's hand dropped.
"Which people?"
"Your aunt Carol.
Your cousin Dennis.
She's telling them the wedding is being called off.
That Lauren—" His father stopped.
"I won't repeat what she's saying.
But she's building a story.
And the longer she has to build it, the harder it will be to undo."
Ryan stood up.
"Thank you, Dad."
"I'm sorry, son.
I'm sorry I didn't see this sooner."
The call ended.
Ryan set the phone on the table and stood with his hands flat on the surface, looking at nothing.
I gave him a moment.
"She's calling family," I said.
"Telling them the wedding is off."
"Yes."
"If she gets to enough of them before we do, it won't matter what the truth is.
The story will already be set."
"I know." He looked up.
"We need to call Carol.
Tonight.
Before my mother gets further."
"Okay."
"And I need to talk to my mother.
Face to face.
With my father there." He straightened.
"But first I need to know — are you all right?"
The question caught me off guard.
After everything — the invitations, the threats, the messages, the house — he was asking if I was all right.
"I'm angry," I said honestly.
"Good." Something shifted in his face.
Not quite a smile.
Something quieter and more certain than a smile.
"So am I."
He picked up his phone to call Carol.
It rang twice before she answered, and I could hear from her first word — a careful, slightly distant "Ryan" — that Mavis had already been there.
"Carol," he said.
"Whatever my mother told you, I need you to hear our side first.
Can you give me ten minutes?"
A pause.
"I suppose I can do that," Carol said.
Ryan looked at me across the table and nodded once.
May you like
We had ten minutes to stop the story from spreading any further.
But Mavis had a head start — and somewhere across town, she was still on the phone.
