Chapter 8 - THE WEDDING THAT ENDED IN AN EMAIL
Megan canceled the wedding the next morning.
She did not send a dramatic announcement. She called the venue, caterer, florist, photographer, and band one by one.
The hotel retained eighteen thousand dollars under the contract. The photographer kept the deposit but agreed to apply part of it to a future family event. The florist sounded relieved that the cancellation came before the flowers were ordered.
Each call turned the betrayal into a practical loss.
Ryan’s aunt had already booked flights from Arizona. Megan’s parents had reserved a rental house in Cambridge. Her dress hung in a garment bag at a Newbury Street boutique, altered to fit a future that no longer existed.
Ryan called from an unknown number after Megan blocked his personal phone.
“You reported me before asking what happened.”
“I asked. You lied.”
“I was trying to recover Mom’s money.”
“With my condo.”
“The loan wouldn’t have closed without you.”
“You created an email account in my name.”
“I needed a complete file so the lender would review the numbers.”
“You needed me cornered.”
Ryan was silent.
Megan heard traffic behind him. He was probably outside Fenwick Rowe’s Wellesley office, afraid to walk in.
He lowered his voice. “If compliance freezes my accounts, Eric’s project collapses. Mom gets nothing.”
“So that’s what you care about.”
“I care about fixing this.”
“You care about fixing it before anyone decides what to call it.”
He asked her not to cancel the wedding publicly. He said they could postpone, tell people Linda was ill, handle the money privately.
Megan almost recognized the appeal. It was the same instinct that had kept her from questioning him for months. Protect the image until the facts became less embarrassing.
She refused.
By noon, Fenwick Rowe placed Ryan on administrative leave and collected his company laptop. The firm told Megan it could not discuss personnel matters but would review whether Ryan had conducted undisclosed outside business.
Ryan arrived at the condo at three for his supervised pickup.
He did not look at the damaged floor. He looked at the empty space where their framed engagement photograph had been.
“You took it down fast.”
“I should’ve looked behind it sooner.”
He packed silently until he reached the kitchen.
Then he saw the wedding account balance on a printed bank receipt.
“You moved the money.”
“I restricted it.”
“That money could keep the Worcester project alive.”
“It belongs to your mother.”
“It belongs to whoever can turn it back into enough to repay her.”
Megan finally understood.
Ryan was not waiting for the investment to recover.
He intended to gamble the remaining money on the same project that had already swallowed the rest.
May you like
The wedding had never been his priority.
It had been his deadline.
