💔 PART 2: I SMILED AT MY FIANCÉ—WHILE MY LAWYER UNCOVERED THE SECRET HIS FAMILY HAD BEEN HIDING

Arthur kissed my cheek as I returned to the private dining room.

“Everything all right, darling?” he asked.

I smiled and placed the anniversary gift beside his mother’s plate.

“Perfect. I just had an interesting phone call.”

For the briefest moment, his smile faltered.

Then he pulled out my chair.

“Good. We have something important to discuss tonight.”

I almost laughed.

Of course they did.

Dinner began with champagne, expensive steaks, and endless stories about the Wells family’s success. Arthur’s father, Richard, spoke proudly about the Briarwood development, a luxury residential project that had supposedly made them the most influential property developers in the city.

But I noticed something the others seemed determined to hide.

Richard kept checking his phone.

Arthur’s sister, Vanessa, whispered urgently to their mother whenever another financial question came up. And every time I mentioned my work, Arthur gently redirected the conversation.

“So, sweetheart,” Richard finally said, setting down his glᴀss, “how is that little consulting business of yours?”

“Busy,” I answered.

“Still working from home?”

“Sometimes.”

He exchanged a knowing glance with Arthur.

I understood then. They had not simply underestimated me. They had built an entire fantasy around my supposed weakness.

Arthur reached for my hand.

“Actually, Dad, we’ve been talking about our future. Once we’re married, we’ll probably consolidate some of our finances.”

“That’s sensible,” his mother added. “A wife should trust her husband.”

I looked directly at Arthur.

“And what would you want me to sign?”

He squeezed my fingers.

“Nothing complicated. Just some documents to help the family business. Dad’s company has a few temporary financial difficulties, and your professional background might be useful.”

There it was.

The real reason for the dinner.

I tilted my head. “What kind of difficulties?”

Richard cleared his throat.

“Just a refinancing issue. A few delayed payments. Nothing serious.”

Vanessa leaned forward.

“We thought you might help us get a meeting with the right people. You know, through your consulting contacts.”

I lowered my eyes, pretending to consider the request.

“I’m not sure my contacts could help.”

Arthur’s grip тιԍнтened.

“Come on, darling. You know how much this means to me.”

I looked at the man I had once imagined growing old beside.

Six months ago, he had brought me coffee when I worked late. He remembered my favorite flowers and sent messages whenever I traveled.

Now I wondered how many of those gestures had been calculated.

“Let me think about it,” I said.

His mother smiled with unmistakable satisfaction.

“Of course. There’s no need to rush.”

But beneath the table, Arthur’s phone vibrated repeatedly.

He glanced at the screen, and the color drained from his face.

I knew why.

At 7:43 p.m., my CFO had received my instruction to suspend further consideration of Northbridge’s proposed financing arrangement with Wells Development until our legal team completed its review.

I had not ordered anyone to destroy their business.

I had simply refused to let my company commit millions of dollars without understanding who we were dealing with.

And that distinction mattered.

After dessert, Arthur walked me toward the restaurant entrance.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said.

“I’m thinking about our future.”

His expression softened into the familiar, practiced smile.

“That’s what I love about you. You’re reasonable.”

“Arthur, if I had less money than you thought I did, would you still marry me?”

He blinked.

“What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.”

He released a little laugh and brushed a strand of hair away from my face.

“Of course I would. Money isn’t everything.”

For one foolish second, I wanted to believe him.

Then his phone rang.

He answered without moving away from me.

“What do you mean, the financing is on hold?” he snapped. “Who made that decision?”

He listened, his jaw тιԍнтening.

“No, that’s impossible. We were ᴀssured the deal was moving forward.”

I watched him struggle to maintain his composure.

When he ended the call, I touched his arm.

“Something wrong?”

He looked at me as if he had forgotten I was standing there.

“Business problem.”

“I’m sorry.”

He forced a smile.

“It’s fine. I’ll handle it.”

I nodded and kissed his cheek.

“I’m sure you will.”

That night, I went home alone.

At 10:18 p.m., my attorney, Elena, called.

“I’ve finished the initial review,” she said. “And you need to hear this before you make any decisions about Arthur.”

I sat down at my desk.

“Go ahead.”

“Wells Development is in significantly worse condition than the public filings suggest. There are overdue obligations, disputes with contractors, and a refinancing ᴅᴇᴀᴅline approaching. If they fail to secure funding, the Briarwood project could face serious consequences.”

“And Arthur?”

“His personal finances are closely tied to the company. There are also documents indicating that his family has been exploring ways to bring a spouse into the financial structure.”

My stomach тιԍнтened.

“Do you mean a marriage agreement?”

“Possibly more than that. We need to examine the actual documents before drawing conclusions.”

Then Elena paused.

“There’s another issue. Someone requested information about your company through an intermediary several weeks ago.”

I went still.

“Northbridge?”

“Yes. They appear to have been investigating potential investors and strategic partners. We haven’t established who initiated the inquiry.”

I stared at the framed pH๏τograph on my desk.

Arthur and me at the beach, laughing beneath the sunset.

Had he known who I was all along?

Or had someone discovered my idenтιтy and quietly pᴀssed the information to his family?

“Elena, I want every document reviewed. Don’t contact Arthur yet.”

“Understood.”

After the call, I opened my laptop and searched for the original Northbridge financing proposal.

The file contained the usual financial projections, risk ᴀssessments, and corporate disclosures.

But one attachment caught my attention.

It was a list of proposed conditions submitted by an intermediary representing Wells Development.

Most were ordinary requests for financing.

One was not.

The document proposed that a future marriage between Arthur Wells and a private investor’s daughter could help facilitate a long-term financial arrangement.

The daughter’s name had been redacted from the copy I received.

I read the paragraph again.

Then I noticed the date.

The proposal had been submitted three weeks before Arthur first asked me to marry him.

My hands went cold.

Three weeks.

Before the proposal. Before the engagement ring. Before he told me I was the only woman who had ever understood him.

I called Elena again.

“Find out who submitted this document. I need the original, not a summary.”

“I’ll pursue it through the appropriate channels.”

“And Elena?”

“Yes?”

“If Arthur knows who I am, I want to know when he found out.”

The following morning, Arthur appeared at my office without an appointment.

He looked exhausted, his expensive suit wrinkled and his usual confidence nowhere to be found.

“Why is Northbridge refusing to move forward?” he demanded.

I leaned back in my chair.

“Perhaps they found something concerning.”

He stared at me.

“You know people there, don’t you?”

“I know quite a few people.”

“Then you can fix this.”

I let the silence stretch between us.

For the first time since we met, Arthur looked at me without the faintest trace of affection.

Only calculation.

Then he placed a thick envelope on my desk.

“Sign these documents, and we can get everything back on track.”

I didn’t open it.

“What’s inside?”

“An agreement that will protect both our families.”

“Then your lawyer can send it to mine.”

His face hardened.

“You’re making a mistake.”

I stood.

“No, Arthur. I made one six months ago. I’m deciding what to do about it now.”

He snatched the envelope off the desk and stormed toward the door.

But just before leaving, he turned back.

“You think you’re untouchable because you have money?”

I met his eyes.

“No. I think everyone deserves to know the truth before they sign away their future.”

He left without another word.

Five minutes later, Elena called.

“We found the original submission,” she said. “And there’s a name attached to the person who commissioned it.”

I gripped the edge of my desk.

“Whose name?”

She took a breath.

“Arthur didn’t initiate the inquiry, and the document wasn’t submitted by his father.”

“Then who did?”

Her answer shattered the last piece of certainty I had left.

“Your former business partner, Victoria Shaw. The woman who disappeared from your life eight years ago—and who knows the one secret about Northbridge you’ve never shared with Arthur.”

I couldn’t speak.

Because Victoria hadn’t merely been my business partner.

She had been the person who helped me build Northbridge from nothing.

And when she left, she took a secret with her that could still threaten everything I owned.

Now, somehow, she was connected to the man I had planned to marry.

I looked at the unopened envelope Arthur had left behind in my imagination, then at the engagement ring on my finger.

Suddenly, the question was no longer whether Arthur loved me.

It was whether he had ever met me by accident at all.

And if Victoria had arranged our first meeting, what had she promised Arthur’s family in exchange for making me their bride?

To be continued in Part 3…