Chapter 8: The Secret Behind the Wedding Money
“Another account?”” I repeated.
Chloe held the phone tightly against her ear.
“Ethan, please don't do anything until I explain.””
She listened.
Her eyes moved toward the invoices in Mrs. Bennett's hands.
“No,” she whispered.
“You weren't supposed to see that.””
The words made my stomach turn.
Mrs. Bennett took a step closer.
“Chloe, what wasn't he supposed to see?””
My daughter lifted one finger, silently asking us to wait.
Then Ethan's voice became audible through the phone.
I heard only fragments.
“...bank records...””
“...another transfer...””
“...the wedding deposit...””
Chloe closed her eyes.
“Please,” she said.
“Give me ten minutes. I'll come outside and explain everything.””
She ended the call before Ethan could respond.
For a moment, she stood without moving.
Then she looked at me.
“I need you to understand why I did this.””
I had heard those words too many times that afternoon.
“Start with the truth,” I replied.
Chloe glanced at the guests gathered near the garden doors.
“Not here.””
I pointed toward a small side room used by the venue staff. It was separated from the ceremony space by a short hallway and had a table, four chairs, and a narrow window overlooking the parking area.
“Then we'll talk in there.””
Mrs. Bennett started to follow us, but Chloe shook her head.
“Can I speak to Dad alone?””
My wife stopped.
I knew she was hurt by the request. After everything that had happened, Chloe still seemed to think that her stepmother's presence was optional whenever the conversation became uncomfortable.
I looked at my daughter.
“No. Your stepmother has every right to hear this.””
Chloe looked away.
“Fine.””
We entered the room.
I closed the door, and the muffled sound of the wedding preparations faded behind us.
Chloe remained standing.
Mrs. Bennett took one chair. I sat beside her.
“Sit down,” I told my daughter.
She lowered herself into the chair opposite us, gathering the front of her gown so it wouldn't catch beneath the table.
For a few seconds, she studied her hands.
Then she began.
“When we first booked the venue, I thought everything would be manageable. Ethan and I had savings, and I had some money of my own.””
“How much?”” I asked.
“About twelve thousand dollars.””
“Where is it now?””
“Most of it went toward the wedding deposits and other expenses.””
Mrs. Bennett listened quietly.
Chloe continued.
“When the costs increased, I used my credit cards. I thought I could pay them off before the wedding. Then I realized I couldn't.””
“So you asked Mrs. Bennett for help,” I said.
“Yes.””
“And you told her what you needed the money for?””
“I told her about the wedding expenses.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
Chloe swallowed.
“I didn't tell her about the credit cards.””
My wife nodded slowly.
“Go on.””
Chloe twisted the fabric of her dress between her fingers.
“I was afraid that if Ethan knew about the debt, he'd think I wasn't ready for marriage. He has always been careful with money. He wanted us to save for a house, and I wanted the wedding to be perfect.””
“So you lied to him,” I said.
“Yes.””
“And you allowed Mrs. Bennett to pay your expenses without telling her the full situation.””
Chloe nodded.
“Then what happened to the money you set aside for the final payment?””
She stared at the table.
“I used some of it to pay my cards. I thought I'd replace it with money from the joint savings account.””
“You submitted a transfer request without Ethan's permission,” I reminded her.
“Yes.””
My wife leaned forward.
“Chloe, what did Ethan mean when he said he found another account?””
My daughter went completely still.
For a moment, I thought she would refuse to answer.
Then she reached into the small handbag attached to her bouquet and removed her phone.
She opened a banking application and placed the phone on the table.
“This is the account I opened.””
I looked at the screen.
The account was in Chloe's name.
“What's in it?”” I asked.
“Nothing now.””
“Why?””
She rubbed her forehead.
“Because I transferred the money out.””
My wife stared at her.
“Which money?””
Chloe's voice dropped.
“The money you gave me for the wedding.””
The room seemed to shrink around us.
Mrs. Bennett sat back slowly.
“How much did I give you?””
Chloe looked at the floor.
“Thirty thousand dollars.””
My wife didn't speak.
I knew she had contributed $85,000 toward the wedding, but I hadn't known how the payments had been arranged. Some had gone directly to vendors. Others had been transferred to cover invoices Chloe had sent her.
Now my daughter was admitting that she had moved $30,000 into an account her stepmother didn't know existed.
“Did you tell her where the money was going?”” I asked.
“I said I needed to consolidate the payments.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No. I didn't tell her about the account.””
Mrs. Bennett's hands tightened together in her lap.
“Chloe, did you use that money to pay the vendors?””
“Some of it.””
“How much?””
“I don't remember exactly.””
“Did you keep records?””
“Yes.””
“Then we need to look at them.””
Chloe shook her head.
“It's complicated.””
“Money doesn't become less complicated because we refuse to look at the records,” my wife said.
My daughter wiped her cheeks.
“I transferred part of it to pay my credit cards. I used some for other expenses. I was going to put everything back before anyone noticed.””
“Other expenses?”” I asked.
“Rent. A few bills. Things that were overdue.””
I stared at her.
“You used money intended for the wedding to pay your personal bills?””
“Yes.””
“And you didn't tell anyone?””
“No.””
Mrs. Bennett looked away toward the narrow window.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she asked, “When you took that money, did you think about what would happen if I needed it?””
Chloe began crying.
“I didn't think you'd need it. I thought you had enough.””
My wife's expression changed.
“Enough?””
“You're financially stable. You and Dad have your house. You have savings. I thought you could manage.””
Mrs. Bennett looked at her as if the words had struck somewhere deeper than the slap.
“You thought my money was available because I had worked hard enough to save it?””
Chloe shook her head.
“I didn't mean it that way.””
“Then how did you mean it?””
“I thought you wanted to help me.””
“I did want to help you. But wanting to help you doesn't mean you own my money.””
My daughter covered her face.
I stood and walked to the window.
Outside, a white car pulled into the parking lot. A guest stepped out carrying a gift bag, completely unaware that the wedding might never happen.
I thought about the money, the lies, and the years of small moments that had brought us here.
Chloe had once asked Mrs. Bennett to help her choose a dress for a school dance. She had once fallen asleep on my wife's shoulder during a long drive home from a family vacation. She had once called her when she was sick at college because she wanted someone to bring her soup.
Those memories were real.
So was the woman sitting across from us, trying to understand how the little girl she had loved had grown into someone who could take her money and then slap her in front of a hundred guests.
“Where is the thirty thousand dollars now?”” I asked.
Chloe looked up.
“I spent most of it.””
“On what?””
“Credit cards. Bills. Some wedding expenses.””
“And the rest?””
“I don't know exactly.””
I turned away from the window.
“You need to know.””
She nodded miserably.
“I'll get the statements.””
“Now,” Mrs. Bennett said.
Chloe opened the banking application again. Her fingers trembled as she navigated through the transaction history.
Then she stopped.
“What is it?”” I asked.
She stared at the screen.
“There's a transfer I don't recognize.””
My wife leaned forward.
“From your account?””
Chloe nodded.
“How much?””
My daughter turned the phone toward us.
The amount was $12,000.
The recipient's name was unfamiliar to me, but Chloe recognized it immediately.
Her face lost all color.
“No,” she whispered.
“What?”” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No. That can't be right.””
“Chloe, who is it?””
She looked at me, then at Mrs. Bennett.
Finally, she said the name.
“Derek.””
I frowned.
“Who is Derek?””
Chloe's lips trembled.
“He's my brother.””
The room fell silent.
Chloe didn't have a brother.
At least, not one I knew about.
I stared at her.
“Your brother?””
She nodded, tears spilling down her face.
“Not your son. My mother's son.””
My late wife had had a child before we met. I knew that much. She had told me once, early in our relationship, that the pregnancy had ended in a closed adoption and that she had never met the child.
We had never discussed it again.
Chloe had been a toddler when her mother died. She had never mentioned a brother.
“Did you find him?”” I asked.
She nodded.
“Last year.””
Mrs. Bennett looked at her with confusion.
“And you sent him twelve thousand dollars?””
Chloe began to cry harder.
“He contacted me because he needed help. I wanted to meet him, but I didn't know how to tell Dad.””
I stared at my daughter.
“You used the wedding money to send money to a brother you never told us about?””
“I was going to explain!””
“When?””
Chloe looked at the phone again.
Then another notification appeared.
A new message from Derek.
May you like
She opened it.
And after reading the first line, she whispered, “Oh, my God.””