Chapter 7 - THE SECRET AVERY HAD BEEN KEEPING
Avery came to my apartment on Sunday with a flash drive taped beneath the lining of her handbag.
She looked as though she hadn't slept in a week.
I opened the door.
She walked inside.
Then locked it behind her.
“Avery?”
“I lied to you.”
My stomach dropped.
“About what?”
She closed her eyes.
“Not about Nolan loving me. I never loved him.”
“I know.”
“But I didn't tell you the entire reason I left Pierce Capital.”
I waited.
She sat on my couch.
Then began crying.
Two years before the engagement dinner, Avery had discovered that certain companies associated with Pierce Capital were buying distressed neighborhood properties using questionable representations about tenant consent.
One acquisition involved the Bennett Community Property Trust.
Avery reviewed the file.
She recognized my mother's name.
She recognized June's signature.
And she recognized Nolan's initials approving the transaction.
“I confronted him,” she whispered.
I sat beside her.
“What did he say?”
“He said the trust was an obstacle and that your family wouldn't understand how much money the land was worth.”
My hands tightened.
Avery continued.
“He asked me to help prepare a report describing the businesses as financially unstable.”
“Were they?”
“Some had challenges. But the report exaggerated them.”
I closed my eyes.
“And you refused.”
She nodded.
“That was when he started pursuing me more aggressively.”
I looked up.
“He'd already been asking you out.”
“Yes. But after I found the irregularities, he began treating me differently.”
She swallowed.
“He said if we were together, we could both benefit from the redevelopment.”
I stared.
“Did he think you would persuade me?”
“I think he hoped I'd influence the family.”
My chest tightened.
Then Avery whispered, “When I rejected him, he asked about you.”
The room became painfully quiet.
“He asked whether you were single.”
I looked away.
For two years, I'd treasured the story of how Nolan first noticed me across a crowded charity event.
Now even that memory felt borrowed.
Avery opened her handbag.
She removed the flash drive.
“I kept copies of the records because I was afraid he'd accuse me of misconduct.”
“What's on it?”
“Emails. Draft financial reports. A few recorded conversations from meetings where I was present.”
I stared.
“Is that the recording someone stole?”
“No. That was the original device. These are backup copies.”
Relief moved through me.
Then I realized something.
“You waited until now to tell me.”
Avery looked ashamed.
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want to ruin your happiness.”
I swallowed.
“And after the engagement dinner?”
“I was afraid you'd hate me for knowing how Nolan first became interested in you.”
I looked at my cousin.
Her eyes were red.
Her hands trembled.
She had carried this secret alone while watching me fall in love with someone who had used her rejection as a doorway into my life.
I took a breath.
“Avery, you should have told me.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
“But you aren't responsible for Nolan's decisions.”
Her face crumpled.
I reached for her hand.
“We'll deal with the records together.”
Rebecca reviewed the files the following morning.
Some appeared relevant to the disputed trust documents.
Others concerned broader acquisition practices.
The material required authentication and careful handling, but it provided important leads.
One email particularly interested her.
It was sent by Nolan to a senior partner.
Once the Bennett marriage is finalized, the remaining property discussions should become considerably easier.
I stared at the screen.
The date was six weeks before he proposed.
I felt the last remnants of my old relationship settle into something cold and clear.
He hadn't simply imagined Avery while loving me imperfectly.
He had also regarded marrying me as useful.
Then Rebecca opened another email.
It contained a meeting request involving Nolan and an executive at Blackwell Freight.
The meeting occurred eighteen months earlier.
I looked at the name.
DAMIAN BLACKWELL.
“Who's Damian?” I asked.
Rebecca searched the company information.
Her expression changed.
“Roman's younger half brother.”
My stomach tightened.
Another Blackwell.
Another hidden connection.
The email's subject line contained only four words.
BENNETT TRUST — PRIVATE DISCUSSION.
May you like
I stared.
And suddenly I understood that Roman might not be telling me everything either.
