Chapter 2 - The Best Man's Warning
Nate called Owen Price from a linen closet, his wedding shoes inches from a stack of clean towels.
"Tell me this is a joke," Owen said after Nate repeated what he had heard.
"She named Graham. She said Rachel wouldn't know until the money was gone. Someone just threatened my sister."
Owen went quiet. He was Nate's best friend, his attorney, and the one person who never confused a wealthy man's confidence with good judgment.
"Do not confront Graham alone," he said. "And don't sign a thing. Are you certain about the voice?"
"I've argued budgets with him for eight years. I know his voice."
"Get to the side entrance. I'll meet you there."
In the service corridor Owen appeared carrying two coffees he had forgotten to drink. Nate showed him the message. Owen took a photograph, then asked to see the velvet box.
"Why?"
"Because you're shaking hard enough to drop it."
Nate set the pearls on a cart. "My mother gave those to my father the day they opened their first hotel. I was going to tell Sloane they belonged to her now."
"They don't," Owen said. "That's not your fault, but we have another problem."
He turned his phone around. On the screen was an alert from Harbor Light Homes, the housing charity Rachel ran with funding from the Whitcomb family. A wire request for $2.4 million was waiting for release to a company called Marsh Point Services.
"Never heard of them," Nate said.
"Neither has Rachel. She called me ten minutes ago. The request carries her electronic approval and Graham's."
"She wouldn't approve that without telling me."
"I know. The bank is checking it. But if it clears, forty-four families lose the money earmarked to repair their apartments."
Nate looked toward the chapel. A violinist began the processional. Two hundred guests waited for him to promise his life to a woman who wanted to empty it.
"You should cancel," Owen said. "Privately."
Nate shook his head. "She'll tell everyone I'm the villain, and Graham will disappear while they're staring at me. I need him in the room."
"Nate, humiliation isn't evidence."
"Then help me get evidence."
May you like
Owen's phone buzzed again. He read the message and lost all color.
"The transfer," he said. "Rachel's approval wasn't submitted this morning. It was submitted last night, while she was standing beside you at the rehearsal dinner."
