Chapter 4: The Lease
I stepped outside through the side door of the chapel.
The air was cold.
The parking lot was quiet.
Somewhere around the front, a car idled.
I called the number back.
It rang twice.
"I wasn't sure you'd call," a woman said.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Diane.
I'm Rebecca's former assistant." A pause.
"I left her employment four months ago.
She doesn't know I still have copies of certain documents."
"What documents?"
"The lease on the Harlow Street apartment.
The enrollment contract for Birchfield Academy — that's the boarding school.
And a letter she drafted to a family court facilitator about modifying your custody arrangement for Emily."
The ground felt different under my feet.
"She was going to modify custody."
"She was going to initiate a petition claiming Emily's home environment was unstable.
She had already spoken to a solicitor.
The plan was to file within thirty days of the wedding, once she was legally your wife."
I leaned against the stone wall of the chapel.
Inside, I could hear the murmur of two hundred people waiting.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have a daughter," Diane said.
"She's nine.
And when I typed that letter for Rebecca, I went home and I couldn't sleep." Another pause.
"I should have called sooner.
I'm sorry I didn't."
"Can you send me the documents?"
"I already did.
Check the email address you used to RSVP the venue.
I found it through the booking confirmation Rebecca forwarded to me."
I opened my email.
Three attachments.
A lease agreement.
An enrollment contract with Emily's full name printed at the top.
And a four-page letter to a family court facilitator, signed at the bottom in Rebecca's handwriting.
My daughter's name appeared eleven times in that letter.
Each time, she was described as emotionally troubled, socially delayed, and in need of a structured residential environment away from her father's inconsistent parenting.
I read it twice.
Then I walked back inside.
Rebecca was standing near the altar, speaking quietly to her mother.
She looked up when she heard the door.
"Are you ready?" she said.
Her voice was steady.
Her smile had returned.
"I need you to come with me."
"Nathan—"
"Now.
Please."
I walked her to the small side vestibule off the main aisle.
Her mother moved to follow.
I held up one hand.
"Just Rebecca."
The door closed.
Rebecca folded her hands in front of her.
"Whatever that woman told you—"
"You know who called."
Her composure held for exactly two more seconds.
"Diane has a grudge," she said.
"I let her go.
She's been looking for a way to—"
"Emily's name is on an enrollment contract for a boarding school three hundred miles away.
Your signature is on a letter to a family court facilitator describing my daughter as emotionally troubled." I kept my voice level.
"When were you going to tell me?"
"After the wedding, when you were calmer and we could discuss it properly—"
"You were going to petition to remove Emily from my care."
"I was going to help stabilize the situation—"
"She is seven years old and she is mine."
Rebecca's expression shifted.
The softness dropped away entirely.
"She is also a child who needs more than you can give her on your own," she said.
"You work long hours.
You travel.
She needs consistency.
Birchfield is an excellent school — I visited it myself.
She would have thrived."
"Without her father."
"With structure."
I looked at her for a long moment.
"Get your mother," I said.
"Tell the priest there won't be a ceremony today."
Rebecca's eyes went very still.
"You're making the worst mistake of your life."
"I've already made it," I said.
"I almost made it permanent."
I opened the vestibule door.
May you like
Her mother was standing three feet away, close enough to have heard every word.
She didn't look surprised.
