Chapter 2
The place where Ethan wanted to get married.
I opened his wedding website.
There he was.
My brother.
Thirty-four years old.
Custom suit.
Expensive watch.
Perfect teeth.
Beside him stood Claire Whitmore, a beautiful brunette from a family whose real estate company had once been prominent throughout Arizona.
I read their story.
They had met at a charity gala.
They loved travel, wine, and “building a legacy together.”
Then I looked at the guest list information my mother had included.
Nearly two hundred fifty people.
Black tie.
Three-day celebration.
Welcome cocktails Friday.
Wedding Saturday.
Farewell brunch Sunday.
I almost closed the browser.
Then I saw the reservation notes.
Because Silver Creek now belonged to my company, I could access the event’s account through our transition team.
I hesitated.
Then I opened it.
Total contract value: $318,400.
Second payment delayed.
Final payment outstanding.
Corporate card declined twice.
Bank guarantee incomplete.
I leaned closer.
That was odd.
I kept reading.
The Whitmores had requested extensions.
My father had personally guaranteed part of the remaining balance.
Interesting.
I searched the reports from our acquisition review.
Whitmore Development appeared several times.
Projects delayed.
Vendor disputes.
Loans restructured.
Nothing criminal.
But they were nowhere near as wealthy as their public image suggested.
Then another name appeared.
Carter Strategic Consulting.
My father’s company.
Revenue declining for three years.
Two major clients lost.
A line of credit approaching its limit.
I sat back.
Suddenly the marriage between two “successful business families” looked different.
My phone was in my hand before I realized what I was doing.
There was one relative I still remembered fondly.
My cousin Jenna.
She had been twelve when I disappeared from family gatherings.
Unlike Ethan, she had never mocked me.
I found her number through an old alumni page.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Jenna?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Maya.”
Silence.
Then a whisper.
“Maya Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God.”
We talked for nearly an hour.
At first, awkwardly.
Then faster.
She told me about marriages, divorces, deaths, children I had never met.
Finally, she asked, “Why are you calling now?”
“I got Ethan’s invitation.”
Another silence.
“You’re coming?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Maya…”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
“Why?”
“Your parents haven’t changed.”
I stared at the city outside my window.
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“You know what everyone thinks happened, right?”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What do you mean?”