Chapter 4 - BIANCA THOUGHT SHE WAS GOING TO BECOME MRS. HARRINGTON
Bianca Laurent had spent eight months believing Zachary would marry her.
I almost admired the predictability.
We met through attorneys in a neutral office.
She wore no silver dress.
No champagne.
No smile.
She looked exhausted.
Her lawyer began.
“Ms. Laurent is willing to cooperate regarding relevant financial matters.”
I stared at Bianca.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because Zachary was planning to blame Briar House on me.”
There it was.
Bianca had created Briar House five years earlier as a legitimate boutique sourcing company.
Interior finishes.
Imported stone.
Luxury fixtures.
Custom fabrication.
Then Harrington Development became her largest client.
According to Bianca, Donald encouraged her to expand.
Zachary offered to “help with the business side.”
Over time, additional invoices appeared under Briar House’s name.
Some work was real.
Some amounts were inflated.
Some services were difficult to verify.
Bianca claimed she asked Zachary.
He told her the extra billing covered project-management fees and confidential vendor rebates.
She accepted the explanation because she was profiting.
Not innocent.
But possibly not architect of everything.
Then six months earlier, Zachary had her sign several backdated vendor documents.
She did.
Again—
not innocent.
Why?
“Because he told me we were building our future.”
I stared at her.
“The future after me?”
Her eyes lowered.
“Yes.”
Bianca believed Zachary would divorce me after my birthday.
That was new.
“Why after my birthday?”
“He said he wanted one final family event first.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you know what he planned to do to me?”
“No.”
She answered too fast.
I waited.
Then:
“I knew he wanted to embarrass you.”
“How?”
“He said you needed to understand the marriage was over.”
“And when he tied me up?”
Her face crumpled.
“I should have stopped him.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“You smiled.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
I did not rescue her from that truth.
Fear does not always look like smiling.
Sometimes cruelty does.
Bianca continued:
“I hated you.”
“Why?”
“Because he said you were the reason he couldn’t leave.”
I almost laughed.
“Zachary could have filed for divorce any morning.”
“I know that now.”
Then her lawyer placed documents on the table.
Texts.
Messages.
One from Zachary:
Once Genevieve signs the marital release, I’m free.
I looked at Rachel.
“What marital release?”
Bianca handed over another document.
A postnuptial agreement.
Drafted.
Never signed.
It would waive significant claims related to marital appreciation of certain Harrington-held interests and confirm that I had no rights connected to several investment entities.
More importantly, attached to it was a broad release concerning transactions I had supposedly “reviewed and approved” during my years at Harrington Development.
My stomach dropped.
Rachel read carefully.
“He wanted you to release historical corporate claims.”
“Yes.”
Bianca whispered:
“He said you’d sign after the party.”
I looked up.
“After he humiliated me?”
“He said once you understood the marriage was finished, you would want a clean exit.”
There it was.
The punishment had a second purpose.
Break me emotionally.
Make me desperate to leave.
Then put papers in front of me.
Zachary underestimated one thing.
He thought pain would make me compliant.
May you like
Instead—
it made me call my brothers.
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