Chapter 11: You Don't Know Everything

I barely slept that night.

The photograph kept replaying in my mind.

Grant's furious expression.

Piper's smile.

And that document lying between them on the kitchen counter.

You don't know everything.

By seven the next morning, I was already sitting at my kitchen table with my laptop open.

I enlarged the photograph until the words on the document became slightly clearer.

Most of the page was hidden beneath Piper's hand.

But I could make out a familiar name.

Grant.

I zoomed in again.

Below his name was a second name.

Piper.

My stomach tightened.

I saved the image and sent it to my lawyer.

A few minutes later, he called.

“June, where did you get this?”

“An unknown number sent it to me last night.”

“Don't respond to whoever sent it.”

“Do you recognize the document?”

He paused.

“Not yet. But I'll have someone look into it.”

I stared at the photograph on my screen.

“Could Grant and Piper have been planning something before the wedding?”

“Based on everything you've shown me so far, I wouldn't assume the wedding was the only thing they planned.”

That sentence stayed with me all morning.

At nine, I received another message from the same unknown number.

This time there was no photograph.

Only a sentence.

Ask Grant why he needed your signature.

I immediately took a screenshot.

Then I blocked the number.

I wasn't going to let a stranger manipulate me with half-truths.

If Grant had been hiding something, I would find it myself.

I opened every financial statement from the past two years.

At first, I found nothing unusual.

Then I noticed a recurring payment.

It was being sent from an account connected to Grant's company.

The recipient was a consulting firm I had never heard of.

The payments had started eight months earlier.

Eight months ago, Piper had moved into our guesthouse.

I pulled up the records for the company.

The business address was a private mailbox in Savannah.

The registered agent was an attorney.

And the listed owner was Piper.

I sat back slowly.

Why would Grant's company be paying Piper's company every month?

I downloaded every invoice I could find.

The descriptions were vague.

Consulting services.

Administrative support.

Strategic planning.

But the amounts were not small.

Over eight months, nearly seventy thousand dollars had been transferred.

I called my former accountant.

She had handled some of my financial paperwork before I moved to Savannah.

After explaining the situation, I asked her to review the records.

She called me back that afternoon.

“June, these payments don't look like normal consulting expenses.”

“What do you mean?”

“The invoices are strangely generic, and several of them were created on the same day. Whoever prepared them was trying to make the payments look routine.”

My heart began pounding.

“Could this be fraud?”

“I can't say that without seeing the company's books. But I'd definitely have your lawyer investigate.”

I thanked her and ended the call.

Then I opened the photograph again.

Grant and Piper hadn't just been celebrating a wedding.

They had been discussing documents.

Documents connected to money.

Money that might have come from Grant's company.

My company records weren't accessible to me anymore, but Grant's business had received thousands of dollars from me over the years.

If he had been moving money around behind my back, I needed to know exactly where it went.

That evening, my lawyer called again.

“I found something.”

I sat up straight.

“What?”

“The company that received those payments is owned by Piper.”

“I know.”

“There's more. The attorney listed as the registered agent is the same attorney who prepared the quitclaim deed for your house.”

For several seconds, I couldn't speak.

The same lawyer.

The same property.

The same people.

Everything suddenly looked connected.

“June,” my lawyer continued, “I want you to understand something. Don't confront Grant yet.”

“Why?”

“Because if they're moving assets or trying to create a paper trail, confronting them could make them destroy evidence.”

I looked at the photograph on my laptop.

“Then what do we do?”

“We let them believe you're still reacting emotionally. Meanwhile, we find out exactly what they've been doing.”

For the first time since the wedding, I smiled.

Not because anything was funny.

Because Grant had made one enormous mistake.

He thought I was too heartbroken to fight.

He thought leaving quietly meant I was weak.

He had no idea that the woman he had spent twelve years underestimating was finally paying attention.

I closed the laptop.

Tomorrow, I would start my new job.

Tonight, I had one thing left to do.

I opened a fresh document and typed a single heading.

Follow the Money.

Then I began building a timeline of every suspicious payment, every property document, and every lie I could prove.