“What does it open?”
“You’ll find out.”
“The mansion?”
“No.”
“A safe?”
“Keep it with you.”
I carried the key in my purse during the rehearsal and tucked it beneath my bouquet during the ceremony.
Something about that small, ordinary key bothered me more than Walter’s missing fortune.
Halfway through our vows, Walter reached for the microphone.
The ballroom became silent.
“My bride does not know one very important detail about my fortune,” he announced.
My hands tightened around the bouquet.
Finally, I thought.
The mansion.
The trust fund.
Perhaps even a secret yacht.
Walter looked directly at me.
“Sally believes she is marrying my fortune. But the truth is, I do not own it.”
I stared at him.
“You what?”
“I take care of it.”
A serious-looking man near the front stood and approached us. I had assumed he was one of Walter’s relatives, but he was actually the family attorney.
He handed me a leather portfolio.
Hope immediately returned.
Perhaps it contained property deeds, trust documents, or maps showing several private islands.
I opened it.
The first page read:
