Chapter 8 — The Groom Who Lied
Chapter 8 — The Groom Who Lied
Greg had lied about almost everything.
But the first lie wasn't about money.
It was about who he was.
For years, Sarah had believed she was marrying into one of the most powerful families in the country.
Greg had encouraged that belief.
He let her think his father owned private resorts.
He let her believe their family had connections in banking, politics, and international finance.
He even allowed my parents to believe his family had paid for the wedding.
But the truth was much uglier.
Greg's family wasn't wealthy.
They were drowning.
And my island had been their last chance to survive.
I learned the truth from a bank statement.
It was sitting inside the folder Greg's attorney had left behind.
At first, I wasn't interested.
Greg's financial problems weren't my responsibility.
Then I saw the account balance.
$12,842.17
I stared.
That couldn't be right.
The man who had arrived on my island wearing a custom-made suit.
The man who had spent weeks boasting about his family's wealth.
The man who had promised Sarah a future of private jets and luxury resorts.
He had less than thirteen thousand dollars in his personal account.
I opened another statement.
A business account.
Negative balance.
Another.
Frozen.
Another.
Outstanding debt.
I kept scrolling.
The more I read, the worse it became.
Greg's family company had been operating under emergency credit lines for years.
Several properties they claimed to own were mortgaged.
Two had already been placed into receivership.
One was being sued by creditors.
And the resort Greg had claimed would become part of Sarah's future?
It didn't belong to them.
They had only managed it.
Badly.
I called my attorney.
“Come here.”
She arrived fifteen minutes later.
“What did you find?”
I handed her the statements.
She read them.
Then looked at me.
“This is catastrophic.”
“How bad?”
“His family's liabilities exceed their liquid assets by more than thirty million dollars.”
I stared.
“Thirty million?”
“Approximately.”
I looked at the documents again.
“Then why did Greg act like they were worth hundreds of millions?”
My attorney gave me a grim smile.
“Because people often confuse debt with wealth when they're trying to impress someone.”
Sarah was the one person who needed to know.
I found her in the guest villa.
She was sitting beside the window.
She looked exhausted.
Her eyes were red from crying.
When she saw me, she stood.
“Did you find something?”
“Yes.”
“About Greg?”
“Yes.”
She looked nervous.
“What?”
I placed the folder on the table.
“Read this.”
She opened it.
At first, she didn't understand.
Then she saw the numbers.
Her expression changed.
“What is this?”
“Greg's financial records.”
“Why do you have them?”
“His attorney left them behind.”
She continued reading.
“Debt…”
“Yes.”
“Mortgages…”
“Yes.”
“Default notices…”
“Yes.”
She shook her head.
“This isn't real.”
“It is.”
“His father owns everything.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
She grabbed another document.
“What about Hale International?”
“Almost completely leveraged.”
“His father's resort company?”
“Not his.”
“Then whose?”
“Several investment groups.”
Sarah's hands began to tremble.
“Greg told me his father built it.”
“He didn't.”
“He told me they owned three islands.”
“They don't.”
“He said their family had billions.”
“They don't.”
Sarah slowly sat down.
“How much do they actually have?”
I answered honestly.
“Not much.”
She stared at the papers.
“How much debt?”
“More than thirty million.”
She laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
It was the sound of someone realizing her entire marriage had been built on a lie.
“He told me he was a millionaire before we met.”
“He probably was.”
She looked at me.
“What?”
“In debt.”
Sarah covered her face.
“I feel so stupid.”
“You aren't stupid.”
“I believed him.”
“You trusted your fiancé.”
“He showed me bank accounts.”
“Were they his?”
She lowered her hands.
“I don't know.”
“That matters.”
She stared at me.
“I don't understand.”
“People can show you money that isn't theirs.”
I pulled out another document.
“This account belongs to a company called Hale Family Holdings.”
Sarah looked at it.
“That's his father's company.”
“No.”
“What?”
“It's controlled by an investment fund.”
She frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Someone else owns it.”
She stared at the document.
“Then why did Greg say it belonged to his family?”
“Because it sounded better.”
Sarah looked toward the ocean.
“I was so proud.”
I sat across from her.
“Of what?”
“My future.”
She laughed bitterly.
“I thought I was finally going to have the life Mom always wanted for me.”
“You already had a life.”
“Not one she respected.”
I understood.
My mother had spent years comparing us.
Sarah was the beautiful one.
The social one.
The daughter who married well.
And I was the quiet one.
The accountant.
The practical one.
The one nobody noticed.
Greg had understood exactly what Sarah wanted.
And he had built a fantasy around it.
That afternoon, we found another lie.
Greg's university degree.
Sarah had always bragged about it.
“He studied international business.”
She had said it hundreds of times.
“He graduated top of his class.”
I remembered.
So did my father.
But when my attorney checked the records, something was wrong.
“There is no degree.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He attended the university.”
“Then?”
“He left after two years.”
Sarah went pale.
“That's impossible.”
“He never graduated.”
She whispered:
“He showed me his diploma.”
“Forgery.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“How many lies?”
I looked at her.
“We don't know.”
Then my attorney placed another document on the table.
His employment history.
Or rather, the absence of it.
Greg had claimed to have been a senior executive at his father's company.
The truth?
He had been a consultant.
For eight months.
Then his contract ended.
He had spent the following three years unemployed.
His lifestyle had been funded by credit.
Luxury apartments.
Cars.
Hotels.
Clothing.
Restaurants.
Everything borrowed.
Everything financed.
Everything designed to look like success.
Sarah stared at the records.
“He didn't love me.”
I didn't answer.
“He wanted my family.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“He wanted your family because of me.”
I shook my head.
“He wanted what he thought I controlled.”
She frowned.
“What did you control?”
I looked at her.
“You.”
Her face fell.
“Me?”
“You were his connection to the island.”
She began crying.
“He knew I was your sister.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
I didn't know.
Not until my attorney found the answer.
At 6:00 p.m., she entered the room holding a file.
“Found it.”
“What?”
“Greg's private investigator.”
I looked at the report.
It had been commissioned eight months before the wedding.
The subject wasn't me.
It was Sarah.
The report contained everything.
Her relationship with Greg.
Her family.
Her parents.
Her spending habits.
Her connection to me.
And one sentence highlighted in red.
SISTER OWNS PRIVATE ISLAND AND CONTROLS FAMILY TRUST.
Sarah stared at it.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Before he proposed?”
“Yes.”
She looked devastated.
“How long?”
“Eight months.”
She whispered:
“He didn't fall in love with me.”
“He may have.”
She looked at me.
“But he also saw an opportunity.”
She cried.
I sat beside her.
I didn't tell her what she wanted to hear.
I told her the truth.
“You don't have to decide today whether you ever loved him.”
She looked at me.
“You only have to decide whether you trust him now.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
That night, Greg called.
I answered.
“Elena.”
“Greg.”
“Can I speak to Sarah?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“She doesn't want to talk to you.”
“I need to explain.”
“You've had plenty of time.”
“I never meant to hurt her.”
“You lied to her.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing everything.”
I almost laughed.
“You didn't have anything.”
There was silence.
Then he said:
“You don't understand.”
“Try me.”
“My father was going to lose everything.”
“That isn't Sarah's problem.”
“He told me I had to marry her.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He said if I married Sarah, we could get access to the island.”
“You agreed.”
“I thought I could fix everything afterward.”
“You were going to use my sister to save your family.”
“Yes.”
“That's not love.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you tell her?”
“I couldn't.”
“You could.”
“I was ashamed.”
I stared at the phone.
For the first time, Greg sounded less like a manipulator and more like a frightened man who had allowed himself to become one.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“My father wasn't the one who planned this.”
I went still.
“What?”
“He didn't start it.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
“What?”
“My father has been receiving money.”
“From whom?”
“I don't know.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“Where?”
“Through an account I couldn't access.”
My heart started beating faster.
The hidden account.
The one Sarah had warned me about.
“What's the account called?”
Greg hesitated.
“Trust Reserve.”
I froze.
“0047?”
Silence.
“How do you know that?”
I stared at the wall.
“Because it belongs to me.”
Greg breathed heavily.
Then whispered:
“Elena…”
“What?”
“My father has been using your money.”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice became urgent.
“You don't.”
“What do you mean?”
“The money isn't going to him.”
I felt cold.
“Then where is it going?”
Greg whispered:
“Your father.”
I ended the call.
I walked into the terrace.
My father was there.
He was staring at the ocean.
“Dad.”
He turned.
“You found out.”
I stopped.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Greg told you.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“You've been taking money from the trust.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“That's a lie.”
He looked at me.
“I didn't keep it.”
“Where did it go?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He looked broken.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“Your grandfather.”
I stared.
“My grandfather?”
“He knew what was coming.”
“What?”
My father stepped closer.
“The reason your grandfather created the trust wasn't to protect your money.”
I felt a chill.
“Then what?”
He whispered:
“To protect you from the people who wanted it.”
“Who?”
He looked toward the dark sea.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“My mother?”
“And Richard.”
I shook my head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out a small envelope.
And handed it to me.
“Your grandfather left this for you.”
I stared at it.
“Why didn't you give it to me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
He looked at me.
“Of what you'd do when you learned the truth.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
My grandfather.
My father.
My uncle Richard.
And another man.
I recognized him immediately.
Victor Hale.
On the back was a date.
Twenty-two years earlier.
And one sentence:
THE HALES DID NOT FIND ELENA BY ACCIDENT.
I looked at my father.
“What does this mean?”
He whispered:
“Greg was never the beginning.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“He was the latest.”
My father nodded.
“The first person who came looking for your inheritance came before you even knew you had one.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Who?”
My father looked toward the villa.
“Your grandfather's lawyer.”
I stared.
“Where is he?”
My father didn't answer.
Because from somewhere behind us came the sound of breaking glass.
We turned.
The window of the administration building had shattered.
A security alarm began screaming.
Daniel came running.
“Elena!”
“What happened?”
He held up a piece of paper.
“It was thrown through the window.”
I took it.
There were only five words.
THE WEDDING WAS NEVER THE PLAN.
I looked at my father.
For the first time, he looked genuinely terrified.
Because Greg had lied about his wealth.
He had lied about his education.
He had lied about his family.
But now I understood something far worse.
He had been telling the truth about one thing.
His family had been trying to reach my island.
They simply hadn't been the ones who started the game.
And whoever had started it had been waiting for me to discover the account.
The account that wasn't really an account.
The account that held something my grandfather had spent twenty-two years hiding.
May you like
Something worth more than forty-eight million dollars.
Something worth killing for.
