I didn’t ask questions. I opened the secure folder and found a packet waiting. The first document looked like venue insurance paperwork.
It wasn’t.
It was a predatory postnuptial transfer agreement hidden behind harmless cover pages. Buried in the clauses was the real intent: once signed, I would transfer fifty percent equity in my firm and fifty percent ownership of my home to Ryan Carter.
I went very still.
“How were they going to get this signed?”
Marcus exhaled once. “Nicole left her laptop open. There was an email chain. The plan was to get you drunk at the reception, tell you it was an urgent venue waiver, and walk you through signing it in the bridal suite.”
I closed my eyes for a single second.
“Marcus,” I said, “what else?”
His silence told me the next answer would hurt him too.
“I audited our household accounts after I saw the emails. Nicole used my credentials to open three loans over the last year. Fifty thousand total. It all went to Donna.”
There it was.
Not one parasite.
A system.