“It would’ve.”
“I know.”
The honesty in that answer hurt.
But it also healed something.
Because at least one person in my life was finally telling me the truth.
We swayed slowly beneath the lights.
Around us, guests laughed and drank and pretended the evening hadn’t detonated half the social hierarchy of Bozeman.
Then Maya approached.
She leaned toward Elias discreetly.
“We have a problem.”
His expression sharpened instantly.
“What happened?”
She glanced toward me apologetically.
“The SEC arrived at Preston’s gala tonight.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
Maya lowered her voice further.
“There are allegations of wire fraud tied to the Phoenix development accounts.”
Elias went very still.
“Who tipped them?”
“I don’t know yet.”
The ballroom suddenly felt colder.
Wire fraud.
Federal investigations.
SEC.
This wasn’t financial embarrassment anymore.
This was criminal.
Maya continued quietly.
“Preston disappeared after leaving here. Isabella can’t reach him.”
For the first time all evening, genuine unease crossed Elias’s face.
“That’s not good.”
I looked between them.
“What aren’t you saying?”
Neither answered immediately.
Then Maya exhaled.
“There are rumors Preston’s losses were larger than reported.”
“How much larger?”
Elias looked directly at me.
“Potentially catastrophic.”
The music continued around us.
Laughing guests.
Champagne.
Mountain air.
And somewhere beyond the lodge, my brother-in-law had apparently vanished while federal investigators descended on his anniversary gala.
A server passed carrying crystal flutes.
Nobody around us realized the ground was shifting again.
Then Elias’s phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
His entire expression hardened.
“What is it?” I asked.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead he looked toward the dark windows overlooking the mountains.
Then back at me.
“Your father just wired five hundred thousand dollars into one of Preston’s offshore holding accounts.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
Maya’s face drained of color.
“That’s impossible,” she said.
Elias handed her the phone.
She read the message once.
Twice.
Then looked up sharply.
“When?”
“Thirty-two minutes ago.”
My father.
The florist check.
The country club.
The desperate loyalty to Preston.
Suddenly pieces I never questioned before began rearranging themselves into something much uglier.
Elias took my hand carefully.
“Penelope,” he said quietly, “I need you to tell me something honestly.”
My pulse thundered.
“What?”
“Has your father ever asked you to sign financial paperwork for the business?”
I froze.
Because three months earlier… he had.
A stack of documents.
Quick signatures.
Something about temporary transfer structures for tax purposes.
I remembered signing them absentmindedly inside my greenhouse while he rushed me between deliveries.
My blood went cold.
Elias saw the answer in my face before I spoke.
And for the first time since I met him…
He looked afraid.
The music kept playing while my new husband lowered his voice beside my ear.
“Penelope,” he said carefully, “I think your family may have used you as a shield.”
