**Part 2**
Margaret stood in the aisle holding the envelope.
Ryan stared at her.
“Mom, what’s in there?”
She looked at me.
I nodded.
“Open it.”
She slowly removed the contents.
The first document was a birth certificate.
Ryan’s name was listed as the father.
The second was a photograph.
A teenage girl holding a newborn baby.
The girl was Margaret’s deceased daughter.
The baby was Sophie.
Ryan stared at the photograph.
His face collapsed.
“Where did you get that?”
Margaret whispered,
“You gave it to me.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
“Eleven years ago.”
“No.”
“You were seventeen.”
“Mom, stop.”
“You asked me to protect her.”
Ryan looked at me.
“Emily, I can explain.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t.”
He stepped toward me.
“Please.”
“You had eleven years.”
I held up the birth certificate.
“You had three years with me.”
I looked at him.
“You could have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So you lied?”
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
He didn’t answer.
“When?”
Silence.
I stepped closer.
“After we got married?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to fix it.”
“Fix what?”
He looked at his mother.
Margaret whispered,
“Tell her.”
Ryan finally spoke.
“There’s another reason.”
My stomach tightened.
“What reason?”
He looked at the congregation.
“My daughter isn’t the only thing I hid.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Ryan…”
He reached into his jacket.
He pulled out a folded document.
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
He handed it to me.
I unfolded it.
My hands went cold.
It was a property transfer agreement.
My property.
My childhood home.
The house my father had left me.
The house worth nearly $600,000.
My name was on the deed.
So was Ryan’s.
I stared at him.
“What is this?”
He whispered,
“Your house.”
“I know what it is.”
“Your father asked me to help manage the property.”
“My father died four years ago.”
“I know.”
“And you were added to the deed two years ago.”
Ryan looked down.
“Yes.”
“Without my permission.”
“I thought…”
“You thought what?”
He couldn’t answer.
I looked at Margaret.
“Did you know?”
She nodded.
“I found out six months ago.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“So that’s why you wanted me to stop the wedding.”
Margaret nodded.
“Because after today, Ryan would have legal claims to everything.”
The church erupted in whispers.
Ryan shook his head.
“That’s not true.”
Margaret turned toward him.
“You know it is.”
“I never planned to take her house.”
“Then why did you put your name on the deed?”
Ryan was silent.
I stared at him.
“Why?”
He finally answered.
“Because my business was failing.”
My chest tightened.
“You used my property as collateral.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“$280,000.”
I closed my eyes.
Three years.
Three years of love.
Three years of trust.
And all along, the man I loved had been using my future as security for a failing business.
But something still bothered me.
I looked at Margaret.
“Why did you keep this from me?”
She lowered her head.
“Because I was ashamed.”
“Of your son?”
“Yes.”
Then she looked at Ryan.
“And because I helped him.”
Ryan looked shocked.
“Mom.”
“I helped him hide the debt.”
I stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew everything.”
She began crying.
“Except one thing.”
“What?”
“Ryan didn’t just borrow money against your property.”
She pulled another document from her purse.
“This.”
I took it.
It was a life insurance policy.
My name was listed as the insured.
Ryan was the beneficiary.
My blood ran cold.
“When did he take this out?”
Margaret whispered,
“Eight months ago.”
I looked at Ryan.
“You took out life insurance on me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Your signature is here.”
“I swear…”
He stopped.
I looked at the signature.
It was mine.
But I had never signed that document.
Then Margaret said something that made the entire church go silent.
“Ryan forged it.”
Ryan stared at her.
“Mom!”
“You did.”
“No!”
“You asked me to witness it.”
Ryan’s face turned white.
I stepped backward.
“Why?”
Ryan shook his head.
“I never wanted you dead.”
“Then why?”
“Because the company was drowning.”
“So you planned to collect if something happened to me?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
He began crying.
“I thought I could save everything before you’d ever know.”
I stared at him.
“You weren’t trying to save us.”
“You were trying to save yourself.”
He said nothing.
And that silence was my answer.
The wedding guests began leaving.
Some quietly.
Some in shock.
My father approached me.
He put his hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“I should have investigated Ryan.”
“You trusted me to make my own choices.”
He shook his head.
“I trusted him.”
My sister Lily hugged me.
“Come home.”
I nodded.
But before I left, Margaret stopped me.
“Emily.”
I turned.
She held out the brown envelope.
“Take it.”
I looked at her.
“What for?”
“Because you need proof.”
I accepted it.
Then she whispered,
“There’s one last thing you need to know.”
I waited.
“Ryan didn’t discover Sophie by accident.”
“What do you mean?”
“He has known where she lives for eleven years.”
My heart sank.
“Then why has he never visited her?”
Margaret looked toward the church doors.
“Because Sophie doesn’t know Ryan is her father.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Her grandmother raised her.”
“Why?”
“Because when Ryan was seventeen, he signed away his parental rights.”
I felt tears rise.
“He gave up his own daughter?”
Margaret nodded.
“And every month, he sends money anonymously.”
“Why?”
“Because guilt is easier than responsibility.”
Those words stayed with me.
Guilt is easier than responsibility.
They described Ryan perfectly.
