Chapter 3
Series 1 Chapter 3
The following afternoon, I went with Callum to the Porsche dealership.
The sales manager slid a set of papers across the desk.
“The vehicle is currently registered to Ms. Whitmore.”
“Per her instructions, the transfer paperwork will not be submitted until after the wedding.”
Callum looked down at the documents, barely hiding his smile.
“We really do not need to make this so complicated.”
His tone was considerate.
His hand never left the paperwork.
“Once we are married, it will not matter whose name is on it.”
I smiled.
“Then we can finish it after the wedding.”
Callum took my hand at once.
“You will not regret this, Sloane.”
He drove us home.
The Porsche had always been mine, but he was already talking like its owner, discussing new wheels and what other car belonged in the garage.
That evening, he brought up my father’s company.
“Did Richard really agree to let me join the investment division after the wedding?”
“He said he would consider it.”
I kept my answer vague.
Callum still could not hide his excitement.
“I will not let him down.”
“I just need one chance to prove myself.”
For the first time all day, his eyes came alive.
Not because of our wedding.
Because he could finally see a way into my father’s company.
His phone rang.
The screen showed a single letter.
B.
Callum glanced at it and declined the call.
A few seconds later, it rang again.
His expression hardened.
“Work.”
He took the phone out to the balcony.
The glass door did not close all the way.
“I told you not to contact me before the wedding.”
I could not hear Blaire’s reply.
Callum cut her off.
“The car paperwork has started.”
“Richard is coming around too.”
“If you cause trouble now, you will ruin everything.”
After a brief silence, his voice dropped even lower.
“Blaire, remember your place.”
The call ended.
When Callum returned, the irritation had vanished from his face.
He kissed my forehead.
“It is handled.”
I looked up at him.
“That was really work?”
His gaze paused for a fraction of a second.
Then he smiled.
“Of course.”
The next morning, I received a text from an unknown number.
No name.
Only a photo.
Callum was lying in a hotel bed with Blaire against his shoulder.
The picture had been taken three months earlier.
A second message appeared.
Do you really know the man you are about to marry?
I replied:
The wedding is still happening.
Then I opened my conversation with Blaire and sent her the updated seating chart.
Her place beside me as a bridesmaid had been crossed out.
I sent the seating chart with a short message.
Callum asked me to remove you. He said he does not want any more surprises before the wedding.
The Porsche transfer and the apartment paperwork are moving forward, so he wants everything settled before the ceremony. I hope you understand.
The message showed as read.
She did not answer.
Half an hour later, Callum called.
“Sloane, has anyone contacted you today?”
He sounded calm.
I could still hear the tension underneath.
“No.”
“Why?”
“It is nothing.”
He paused.
“Someone may be trying to interfere with the wedding.”
“Do not believe anything sent from an unknown number.”
I looked at the hotel photo.
“All right.”
“Sloane.”
“Yes?”
“You trust me, do you not?”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Of course.”
He exhaled.
“I love you.”
The call ended.
A few minutes later, the unknown number sent another message.
This time, it was not a photo.
It was a seven-second recording.
Blaire’s voice sounded furious.
“You said once you got what Sloane has—”
The audio cut off.
I called the number immediately.
The phone had already been switched off.
Then another message appeared.
You think he only wants your apartment and your car?
I stared at the screen.
One final message appeared.
What he really wants is something your father would never give him.
And all he needs to take it is your signature.