Chapter 2

The next morning, Helen Morris took over the Reed Trust's legal affairs.

She was in her 40s. She spoke slowly, but she reviewed documents incredibly fast. Less than half an hour into our meeting, she pulled another attachment from behind the voting proxy.

"It renews automatically after the wedding." She slid the page toward me. "Unless the proxy holder resigns or a court finds him unfit, your authorization will renew every year."

I stared at the page numbers Lucas's legal team had added to the document.

In my last life, no one had explained this clause to me, and I'd never asked.

"Can I still get out of it?"

"You didn't sign, so of course you can." Helen looked up at me. "What's really strange is this."

She opened another set of financial records. Two weeks earlier, the Vale Foundation had paid two hundred forty thousand dollars to a safety equipment supplier, yet the approval note read, "Temporary advance for the Reed wedding reception."

My name was in the box for the person who'd given verbal authorization.

"I never authorized that."

"I believe you, but the bank and the board only go by the records," Helen said. "If you accuse anyone publicly right now, they'll spin it as a fight between an engaged couple. First, we'll freeze any outstanding payments and preserve the original emails and server logs. Then we'll tell the supplier to stop shipping."

"Do it."

I understood every step and knew what would happen once I signed. This time, no one was pressuring me to put off my questions until after the wedding.

Helen set three more authorization forms in front of me.

"This one gives me limited power of attorney solely to obtain records and accept service of process. This one requires dual verification with the trust bank. And the last one requires your personal approval by video for any expenditure over one hundred thousand dollars."

I read every page before I signed.

She capped her pen. "From now on, if anyone rushes you, tell them your lawyer isn't done reviewing it. Don't sign something just because they're in a hurry."

I took that to heart. It turned out I never had to apologize for reading a document one more time.

That afternoon, the wedding planner had scheduled a menu tasting.

Serena sat to Lucas's right, deftly picking out the cilantro he wouldn't eat. Then she handed me a statement.

"There might have been a little misunderstanding with the supplier," she said apologetically. "Just sign this. It says the foundation temporarily fronted the wedding expenses. Once funds are available in the wedding account, we'll pay it back."

I didn't take it.

"Who approved the payment?"

"The foundation handles so many transactions every day. How am I supposed to remember them all?" She smiled. "Anyway, the money isn't gone."

"Then why is my name on it?"

She turned to Lucas as if my question had left her at a loss.

Lucas set down his wineglass.

"I told her to handle it. The media's been watching the succession plans closely, and the foundation can't have a scandal right now. Sign it and make this go away."

"So using my name was safer than using yours."

"Don't make routine PR damage control sound so ugly." He leaned back in his chair. "Evelyn, I know it bothers you that Serena and I are close. After the wedding, I'll give you the respect you're due."

He'd said the same thing in my last life.

After we married, there were elegant dinners and jewelry on every anniversary. But whenever he and Serena were photographed in the same car late at night, I was the one left to face the reporters and insist they were only colleagues.

I pushed the statement back.

"The outside auditors will be at the charity gala tomorrow. They can explain the accounts."

Serena's fingers curled slightly.

Lucas looked at me for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

"You're not actually thinking about calling off the wedding, are you?"

I looked right back at him.

"Not yet."

He kept smiling, as if that were exactly the answer he'd wanted to hear.

After I left the restaurant, I met Adrian in the old sitting room at the winery.

He was taller and leaner than he'd looked on the news, with the sleeves of his dark shirt rolled up to his elbows. The wildfire safety report was spread out on the table. He skipped the small talk.

"What do you want me to look into?" he asked.

"The foundation's accounts."

"I was brought in to look at safety risks."

"That money went to a safety equipment supplier."

He took the accounts I handed him but didn't open them right away. First he asked, "Are you authorized to show me these records?"

That caught me off guard.

Lucas never asked questions like that. He always said we'd be family soon.

"I am. Helen already confirmed it."

Only then did Adrian open the file.

The only sound in the room was pages turning. A few minutes later, he pointed at the supplier's address.

"This is a mail-forwarding office. No warehouse, no contractor's license."

"Would you be willing to come to the charity gala?"

He looked up.

"As what?"

"As the board's risk adviser. I also want you there to observe the audit."

"Lucas will think you're picking a side."

"I am picking a side."

Adrian closed the report.

"Then think it through. Once this goes before the board, don't back down halfway because of the wedding, the media, or the need to protect anyone's reputation."

"I won't."

He said, "Okay." He didn't ask why I'd suddenly changed, and he didn't ask whether I still loved his brother.

He just took the accounts with him.

At the door, he paused.

"Evelyn."

"Yes?"

"If someone used your name, make them show the authorization," he said. "You don't have to rush to explain things you never signed."

After the door closed, I stood there for a long time.

On the final day of my last life, the words I repeated most often were "Believe me." Looking back, I realized they should have had to produce evidence too.