Chapter 3

A second later, Summer sent me a photo. She was standing in front of the mirror in the master bedroom, wearing my wedding dress.

It was the very same dress I'd picked up from the wedding planner this afternoon and hung up in the house.

She threw in a comment. [The waist on this dress is a little loose, but it's no big deal. I still look amazing in it.]

I stared at the photo for a second, hesitated for a moment, then bundled up all their messages, the deed, and the payment records, and sent them straight to my best friend, Emerie Jones.

I tacked on a message. [Find me a reliable lawyer. The sooner, the better.]

Emerie called me right away. "Where are you?"

"At the Recorder's Office," I replied.

"Don't move. I'm coming right now."

By the time Emerie showed up, it was already dark out.

Emerie dashed over in her heels, and the first thing out of her mouth was, "Honestly, you're holding back. If it were me, I'd have tossed those two straight out the window from the 16th floor."

I had to smile at her. "I'd rather throw myself out the window and ask myself what the hell was going on in my head all these years."

"You were lovesick." Emerie shoved a cup of coffee into my hand. "But don't worry, tonight we're cutting that lovesick brain out for good."

She always got things done fast. The moment we pulled out of the parking lot, she forwarded me the lawyer's contact.

His contact name was set as Emilio.

"He's my brother's friend. He's a beast when it comes to pre-marital assets and real estate disputes.

"He's got a razor-sharp tongue and a sharper bite in court," Emerie said. "Plus, he can't stand those guys who act all devoted while living off a woman's money."

I tapped on Emilio's profile picture. It was a solid black square.

His Moments were set to show only the last three days, and there was nothing there at all.

I sent him a message: [Hi, I need some advice about a property dispute.]

He replied instantly. [Would you prefer a voice call or a face-to-face meeting?]

I was shocked.

Emerie saw my reaction and whistled. "Damn, that's fast."

I typed back: [Let's meet in person. I'm free right now.]

Emilio sent me the address of a 24-hour café. [I'll be there in twenty minutes.]

When I got there, I finally understood what Emerie meant by "razor-sharp tongue and a sharper bite."

Emilio was wearing a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His face was expressionless, but his gaze was calm and unflinching.

After checking all the information in my phone, he didn't bother with any comforting words. He cut straight to the chase. "Can you pull up the original payment receipts for the house?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"When you signed at the sales office, was there any surveillance, salespeople around, or chat records?"

"Should be."

"Did you ever sign any blank authorization forms?"

I paused for a couple of seconds. "I signed a few."

Emilio looked up at me.

His look was totally unreadable, but it still made my face heat up.

It was like he was sizing up someone who'd been thoroughly scammed.

I muttered, "Yeah, I know. That was dumb."

"Better late than never." He slid my phone back to me, speaking quickly, "First, this isn't some petty love triangle drama. This is textbook property theft, and there might be forged documents involved.

"Don't let them distract you with their nonsense. Second, from now on, don't waste your breath on feelings with Ethan. Stick to the facts and evidence.

"Third, if you're set on canceling the wedding, don't give him any time to react. Any delay is time for him to hide assets or cook up a story."

I stared at him. "Do you think I can get the house back?"

"Getting it back all comes down to the evidence. But there's one thing I can tell you up front."

"What is it?"

"They're not going to get away with this house that easily."

For the first time all night, I finally felt like I could breathe again. "Why are you so sure?"

Emilio looked at me, his voice calm. "Because I've seen plenty of people like them. Their specialty is making victims believe they've already lost."

After that, he bent over his laptop and started listing things out. "When you get home tonight, do three things.

"First, export all your transfer records. The more detailed, the better.

"Second, back up every chat you've had with Ethan, especially anything about the house, the wedding, the decor, the furniture, and the payments.

"And third, don't delete a single thing Summer sends you. The more she shows off, the more evidence she's leaving behind."

I nodded.

Emerie asked from the side, "Should we call the cops?"

"You can, but don't expect the police to fix everything overnight," Emilio said. "First, we'll apply for an asset freeze, and then prep for a civil lawsuit.

"As long as we can prove Stella was the actual buyer, and they used deception, forgery, or malicious registration, we can flip the script."

Suddenly, something clicked in my mind. "He texted me, saying he put the house under Summer's name to make it up to her."

Emilio paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "Do you have the exact message?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. Keep it." He looked up at me. "That line is going to be his undoing."

By the time we left the café, it was almost eleven.

Emerie insisted on coming with me, but I told her no.

"I have to tell my mom myself," I said.

She looked at me. This time, no jokes, no teasing. "Can you handle it?"

I managed a small smile. "Even if I can't, I have to."

When I got home, my mom was sitting in the living room, wrapping wedding gifts.

Seeing me come back alone, she smiled and asked, "Where's Ethan? Didn't you say you were going to the wedding house to get things ready tonight?"

I stood in the doorway, my throat tight, and finally managed to speak, "Mom, the wedding's off."

The gift box slipped from her hand and hit the floor with a thud.

My dad came in from the balcony, his face falling. "What happened?"

I showed them the photos on my phone.