The Billionaire Suspect (The Van Dyke Sisters 1)

           It was the night before Catherine Van Dyke’s wedding. She was enjoying the welcome party at her parents’ estate. The party was to welcome out of town guests who came to New York City for the wedding. She noticed her fiancé, Bruce Hudson, making eyes across the room at his brothers, Christopher and Trevor.  After a few minutes, Trevor approached Bruce and they began speaking as their eyes diverted here and there. So, Catherine decided to see what was going on.

          Catherine approached them holding a full glass of champagne. “You two look like you’re planning a conspiracy,” she joked lightly.

            Trevor chuckled. “Not at all.”

            “Catherine, would you come with me to the garden?” Bruce asked. He wore a black suit with a burgundy and black stripped tie. He looked so distinguished.

            “And leave our own party?” Catherine asked like the social faux pas it was. She had spent almost a week picking out the perfect dress for the party. She usually wasn’t so fussy about clothing outside of the courtroom. But this was a big night for her. It was the night before the wedding. She wore a blue dress where the hem line was above her knee. The neck-line was V-shaped that curved over her shoulders leaving her arms bare. Her sisters helped her pick it out.

            “Just for five minutes,” Bruce said.  “I haven’t had one moment alone with you since I arrived.”

            Catherine smiled. “Oh, all right.”

            “How cute,” Trevor said with a little smile.

            Bruce took her arm and began to walk her to the alternate hallway toward the dining area they had been in only four and a half months ago.

            Catherine started chatting about her relatives who had come out of town as they walked through the room and to the double patio doors that led out to the garden.

            Bruce prayed that no one was out there as they entered the garden. Black poll lights two feet apart lined and lit the yellow brick path. He walked her about nine feet away from the house. He stopped in front of the lilacs.

            “It’s such a beautiful night, isn’t it?” she asked dreamily.

            “Yes. It is,” he agreed. “Yet, it’s another thing that makes this harder than it already is.”

            “Make what harder?”

            Bruce spotted the bench next to the yellow flowers on the other side of the path. “Catherine, you better sit down. This will come as a shock to you.”

            “I knew it,” she said in an accusatory tone. “I knew something wasn’t right when I noticed you and your brothers making eyes at each other ten minutes ago.”

            “How perceptive of you,” he mumbled.

            “I’m a lawyer. I wouldn’t be as good as I am if I wasn’t perceptive.”

            “I see. Please sit down, Catherine.”

            “I rather stand,” she said seriously. “What is it? Are you sick?”

            “What? No,” he stammered.

            “One of your brothers is sick . . . or one of your nephews.”

            “No. No one is sick.”

            “Then why do you look like as if someone died or has an incurable disease?” she asked and let go of his arm. She faced him head on.

            “Because . . . something is about to die – and it’s this engagement. Catherine . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you tomorrow.”

            “What?” She had to have misunderstood.

            “I can’t marry you tomorrow,” he repeated.

            “What?” she repeated.

            No. He did not say what I thought I heard.

            “Catherine, the wedding is off. I am not going to marry you tomorrow – or ever,” he explained slowly.

            Her mouth dropped open. She was beyond shocked. Then she shook her head. “No . . . I must be misunderstanding you. Are you saying you don’t want to marry me?”

            “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

            “What . . . how . . . why?” she whispered.  Who was this person? It was like Bruce had suddenly become another man.

            “I . . . fell in love with someone else.”

            “What!” she shouted. It wasn’t often she raised her voice “When would you have had time to fall in love with someone else? We’ve only been engaged for four and a half months. And we were seeing each other for over a year before that.”

            “Two months ago, I started to get to know an . . . old acquaintance better. I didn’t plan it, but . . . despite my best efforts, I fell in love with her. I cannot in good conscious marry you.”

            Catherine started breathing heavy. “Who is she?” she asked in a demanding tone.

            “Who she is isn’t important,” he said with strength.

            “The hell it isn’t,” Catherine snapped between clenched teeth. “You’re calling off our wedding that is less than twenty-four hours away. I have every right to know the name of the woman who went after you when you were already taken – or did you not tell her you were engaged?”

            “She knew just like everyone else. It’s just that the . . . attraction . . . the love we have for each other is too strong to fight, Catherine,” he explained, coolly.

            “Four and a half months ago you said you loved me – and proposed to me. I didn’t pressure you into marrying me,” she stated angrily.

            “I know that,” he assured her patiently. “I . . . set the tone for this whole thing. I take responsibility for that. And now I’m trying to correct my mistake.”

            “So, you never loved me at all?” Catherine asked in a high-pitched tone.

            “I meant what I had said over four months ago. I still love you now, but after some reflection, I realized that it isn’t the type of love a man needs to have for a woman he is going to marry. But, I do have that love for her.”

            Catherine started heaving in and out. She couldn’t help it. “And you couldn’t figure this out earlier? You tell me this at our welcome party for our guests; some who traveled over a thousand miles to watch us get married – tomorrow! You tell me this in my parents’ home!”

“I tried to get here to tell you before the party started,” he began defensively. “I got stuck in traffic from that damn bus accident. By the time I got here some guests were already here and your mother and sisters wouldn’t let me see you because you wanted to make an entrance and surprise me with your dress. I tried, Catherine,” he stressed with emotion.

“So, it’s my fault you couldn’t talk to me before the party started,” she whined hysterically. She never got hysterical – until now.

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.”

Catherine felt like she was going to pass out from disbelief.

Bruce reached out for her. “Catherine, I’m sor-”

Catherine’s hand flew up and slapped his cheek – hard as a wave of fury over took her. “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me again!” She threw the full glass of champagne she was holding in his face. Catherine slammed the glass down on the brick path. It shattered. Then she ran off, going into the direction of the house.

Tears filled her eyes as she raced to the doors. Instead of racing through the house where lingering guests could see her, she bolted for the kitchen. The kitchen staff was gone – thankfully.

Catherine crumbled in the floor next to the cabinets and sobbed. Her future had been ripped away from her by the man she loved.