Chapter 6 - The Wedding Was Built on a Lie
By sunrise, nobody in the Crawford house had slept.
I sent Laura and Lucas to my friend Rebecca’s home.
They protested, especially Laura, but I refused to let them remain in a house where insurance documents and a note about making something “accidental” had appeared behind a shed.
Kenneth insisted he had never seen the folder.
I almost believed him.
Almost.
But trust had become a luxury I could no longer afford.
Gerald sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
He kept looking around the room as if trying to recognize the house he had left five years earlier.
His wife’s curtains were gone.
The old wooden table had been replaced.
Even the family photographs had changed.
There were pictures of Kenneth.
Giselle.
Justin.
Our children.
None of Gerald.
Not one.
At nine in the morning, Giselle arrived.
She stormed through the front door in heels and a cream suit.
“What have you done?”
I looked up.
“Good morning to you too.”
She pointed toward Gerald.
“Dad, you cannot be here.”
Gerald slowly put down his coffee.
“I believe I can.”
“Justin’s future in-laws are coming tonight.”
I stared at her.
“You came here after everything that happened last night and your concern is dinner?”
“You don’t understand.”
“That sentence is becoming popular in this family.”
Giselle turned toward Kenneth.
“Why haven’t you fixed this?”
He looked exhausted.
“Fix what?”
“Get Dad somewhere else.”
Gerald’s expression hardened.
“This is my house.”
Giselle lowered her voice.
“We know.”
“Apparently you forgot.”
“I’m trying to protect Justin.”
“From what?”
“Humiliation.”
Gerald stood.
“The humiliation of having a grandfather?”
“A convicted criminal.”
Silence.
Kenneth whispered, “Giselle.”
“No. Someone needs to say it.”
She faced Gerald.
“You stole money from farmers who trusted you. Mom died while you were in prison. Aaron ran away. We spent five years rebuilding our reputation.”
Aaron’s voice came from the hallway.
“You didn’t rebuild anything.”
Giselle spun around.
The color drained from her face.
“Aaron?”
He leaned against the doorway.
“Hello, sister.”
She actually staggered backward.
Unlike Kenneth, Giselle looked genuinely shocked.
“You’re alive?”
“Disappointing?”
“What are you doing here?”
“Investigating why Dad went to prison for crimes he didn’t commit.”
Giselle stared.
Then laughed.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
“Then you won’t mind answering questions.”
Her expression shifted.
“Questions about what?”
“Gulf Meridian Holdings.”
Her lips parted.
Aaron noticed.
“So you remember it.”
“No.”
“You reacted pretty strongly for someone who doesn’t.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gerald stepped closer.
“Giselle, did Raymond ever ask you to sign company papers?”
“No.”
“Did Kenneth?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“No!”
She reached for her purse.
“I’m not staying for this.”
I blocked her path.
“One more thing.”
She stared at me.
“What?”
“Why was Gerald’s life insurance information in the shed?”
Her face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
I noticed.
“So you have seen it.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then why did you look at Kenneth?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
She pushed past me.
Aaron moved toward the door.
“Where’s Justin’s wedding?”
Giselle stopped.
“Why?”
“Curious.”
“Don’t go near it.”
“Why?”
Her jaw tightened.
“Because Justin has nothing to do with this.”
Gerald gave a sad laugh.
“You were willing to hide me in a shed for his wedding.”
“That is not the same.”
“It feels similar.”
She left.
Aaron waited until her car disappeared.
Then he turned toward us.
“She knows something.”
Kenneth sat down heavily.
“She always knows something.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
He stared into his coffee.
“Giselle handled Dad’s correspondence after the arrest.”
Gerald frowned.
“What correspondence?”
“Bank letters. Property taxes. Insurance.”
My pulse quickened.
“Including life insurance?”
Kenneth nodded slowly.
Gerald closed his eyes.
Aaron muttered a curse.
Suddenly I remembered Justin’s wedding.
The rush.
The secrecy.
The desperate need to keep Gerald hidden until after the ceremony.
“Why does the wedding matter so much?” I asked.
Kenneth looked up.
“Because Giselle has spent eighteen months arranging it.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
Aaron pulled out his phone.
“Who is Justin marrying?”
“Olivia Mercer,” Kenneth said.
Aaron stopped.
“What?”
I looked between them.
“Who is Olivia Mercer?”
Aaron’s expression sharpened.
“Daughter of Samuel Mercer.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Gerald understood.
“Mercer Agricultural Bank.”
Aaron nodded.
I stared.
“And?”
“That bank financed most of Crawford Grain’s equipment before Dad’s arrest.”
Kenneth looked confused.
“So?”
Aaron was already typing.
“Samuel Mercer was also one of the people who testified that Dad’s company accounts showed deliberate fraud.”
Gerald’s face hardened.
The pieces started shifting.
Justin wasn’t just marrying into a wealthy family.
He was marrying into the family of a man connected to Gerald’s conviction.
Aaron looked at Kenneth.
“Did Giselle arrange their introduction?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About two years ago.”
Aaron’s fingers stopped.
“Two years ago.”
The same time Kenneth had rebuilt my bedroom closet.
I felt cold.
Gerald whispered, “This wedding isn’t about Justin.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Aaron’s phone chimed.
He had found something.
He turned the screen toward us.
A corporate announcement from Mercer Agricultural Bank.
It said the bank was preparing to purchase several agricultural properties in Harrison County after the wedding season.
One property number was listed.
Gerald looked at it.
“That’s my north field.”
Kenneth stared.
“They’re buying Dad’s land?”
“They can’t,” I said. “He owns it.”
Aaron scrolled.
A filing was attached.
Preliminary sale authorization.
Signed six months ago.
By someone claiming to hold Gerald Crawford’s power of attorney.
The signature at the bottom belonged to Giselle.
And beside it was another signature.
Witnessed by Kenneth Crawford.
My husband looked at the screen.
His face went white.
“I never signed that.”
Aaron stared at him.
Kenneth grabbed the phone.
“I swear to God, I never signed that.”
For the first time, I believed him instantly.
Because the signature looked perfect.
Too perfect.
Aaron whispered, “Someone has been forging this family’s names for years.”
Gerald sat down.
Then he said the one thing none of us expected.
“I know who taught Raymond how to do it.”
We looked at him.
“My wife.”
His late wife.
Kenneth’s mother.
The woman everyone believed had died heartbroken while Gerald was in prison.
May you like
Gerald’s voice shook.
“And if I’m right, she knew exactly why I was sent away.”
