The Night Before the Wedding, the Groom’s Family Talked About My Apartment, but Julian Stopped Smiling for the First Time Because of My Question

On the night before the wedding, I came running out of the groom’s mother’s apartment because behind a half-open door I heard my own name and the address of my apartment.

It was raining in Chicago that evening. Raindrops slid down the windows on the twenty-second floor, while in Eleanor Mercer’s living room the smell of cinnamon tea and an expensive candle mingled together. A few minutes earlier, she had taken my hands in both of hers and smiled warmly at me.

“Tomorrow you will already become a member of our family, Harper,” she told me. “At last, everything will fall into place.”

I laughed, although the word “everything” lodged strangely in my heart.

Then she asked me as if by chance:

“Is your apartment in Lincoln Park still only in your name?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Julian and I will talk about it after the wedding.”

Eleanor’s smile disappeared for one second.

“Of course. Trust is the most important thing, after all.”

At the time I did not understand why I remembered this phrase so clearly. Now every word screams in my ear.

My mother bought me that apartment several months before her death. Her small inheritance, money saved over the years, and one old bank loan proved sufficient. In the hospital room, when it was already very difficult for her to breathe, she squeezed my hand and whispered to me:

“Harper, trust love, but do not build everything only on love. Leave something in your own name. Papers do not lose their memory.”

That evening I did not remember her words. I remembered only that I had left my cream-colored jacket at Eleanor’s.

It was not an ordinary jacket. My mother had sewn it herself and embroidered two small purple flowers near the collar. On one she had put the letter “M,” and on the other—“H.” When I wore it, I felt as if my mother were covering my shoulders again.

When I reached the elevator, I saw that the jacket had remained on the chair.

“I will have to go back,” I muttered.

I went up to the twenty-second floor again. I reached toward the doorbell, but the door turned out not to be completely closed. Eleanor’s voice came from inside.

“Harper has already left. Thank God.”

Chloe giggled.

“She still believes that you really love her.”

My breath caught. I took hold of the doorknob but did not move it. I took out my phone and quietly turned on the voice recording.

“Tomorrow everything will be over,” Eleanor said. “Julian only has to play the emotional part. Family, trust, future children. Harper will give in.”

“And if she does not give in?” Chloe asked.

“After the wedding it will be much easier to influence her. Besides, we will already tell everyone that she does not trust her own husband.”

The strength left my knees.

Then the name of my apartment was heard.

“As soon as Julian’s name is on that property, we can take out a loan, transfer it, or sell it. His startup company is drowning in debt.”

Chloe remained silent for several seconds.

“Does Julian really love Harper?”

Eleanor answered calmly:

“Julian loves what Harper can do for him. At this age, that looks enough like love.”

I stopped the recording. Mother’s jacket was still in the room, but I could no longer ring the bell. I went down the stairs and called only one person—Julian’s business partner, Nate.

“Harper, what is happening?” he asked me.

“Has Julian ever mentioned my apartment?”

An odd silence fell on the other side of the line.

“Why are you asking me this on the night before the wedding?”

“Please, just answer me.”

Nate exhaled heavily.

“Several weeks ago he said that after the wedding he would probably have access to property that could help us with financing. I thought you already knew.”

At that moment I realized that my wedding might not be a celebration of love, but a carefully planned deal.

I sent Julian only six words: “I need to see you now. Come alone.”

He came in half an hour. I did not shout at him. I only asked:

“Did you tell your partners that after the wedding you would have access to my apartment?”

Instead of answering, Julian reached toward his pocket. Just then I took out my phone, opened the recorded conversation, and removed my engagement ring. He instinctively held out his hands, and I placed the ring on his open palm.

“Listen to this first,” I told him.

And I brought my finger close to the button for starting the recording…

Julian looked at the ring for a long time. Its metal shone coldly in the streetlamp.

“Harper, what is this?” he asked me.

“You have to give me an answer. Not an explanation, not a promise. The truth.”

I started the recording.

Eleanor’s voice sounded in the car. When she spoke about selling my apartment, Julian’s face changed. At Chloe’s laughter, he lowered his eyes.

“You misunderstood my mother,” he said.

“My name and my apartment are in the recording.”

“She has her own plans. I did not do anything.”

“Nate told me that you spoke to your partners about me and the property.”

Julian fell silent.

This silence was louder to me than any confession.

“You told me it would be our first home,” I said. “In reality, you wanted my home.”

“I had to save the company.”

“And me?”

He held out his hand to me, but I stepped back.

“There will be no wedding tomorrow.”

Julian looked into my eyes for the first time.

“If you do this, my mother will destroy everything for you.”

“Perhaps. But this time I will not be alone.”

That same night Nate called me. He told me that in the company’s accounting records my apartment’s address had already been entered as future collateral. Then he added quietly:

“Harper, there is one more thing. Tomorrow morning Julian is planning a meeting with a notary. And in his folder there is a document with your signature…”

But I had never signed anything like that…

At Nate’s last words, it was as if the air had disappeared from the room. Outside the window, rain struck the glass, while the small flowers on Mother’s jacket lying on the table trembled in the weak light of the car.

“What document are you talking about?” I asked.

“I do not know exactly yet. My assistant happened to come across the file. Your name, your apartment’s address, and a signature are there.”

Julian jumped up.

“Do not listen to Nate! He is trying to take over the company.”

“Then why are you so frightened?” I asked.

“Because you are destroying my family!”

For the first time there was no regret in his voice. Only irritation and fear remained.

Nate told me that we should meet at the company office in the morning. Julian and I arrived there almost at the same time. The office was in an old building by the river. The smell of burnt coffee stood in the corridor, while an opened folder waited on Nate’s desk.

“I found this in the financing application,” he said.

He turned the folder toward me.

On the first page it said that I, Harper Hales, agreed to use my apartment as security for the company’s debt. Below stood my full name and signature.

I put my fingers on the paper. The paper was real. But the signature was an almost perfect copy of my signature.

“I did not write this,” I said.

Nate took out a second sheet.

“That is why we should listen to the voice recording.”

He pressed the button. Eleanor’s voice sounded in the room again:

“Julian only has to play the emotional part. If they transfer the apartment into his name, the bank will give us the money.”

Then Julian’s voice sounded, quiet and tense:

“Harper is jealous, but I will get her to sign before the wedding. Mother, please stop pressuring me.”

The recording stopped.

Julian sat down on the chair.

“They took this conversation out of context.”

“You did not recognize your own voice?” I asked.

“I was only trying to save the company.”

“Without my permission?”

Nate put the phone on the table.

“There is more. A complete copy of the recording has already been sent to a lawyer. The bank application too. Also the camera footage from Eleanor’s apartment.”

Julian raised his head.

“Which cameras?”

“The entrance. From the day you and your mother took the folder from the notary.”

His face went pale.

The phone rang. It was an unknown number. A woman’s voice sounded clearly:

“Am I speaking with Harper Hales? I am the lawyer who saw the application filed in your name this morning. Before we go to the police, you should know: this is no longer only a case of a forged signature. The company has already officially registered a claim against your apartment.”

Julian slowly looked at me.

“Harper, do not do this.”

“I have not done anything yet.”

“Then why is your lawyer calling?”

The woman added over the phone:

“And there is one more issue. The signature used on the document is from the hospital form that you signed on the day your mother died. Whoever did this had access to your personal files.”

Eleanor knew about my mother’s documents. Only she knew where the old folder was kept.

At that same moment a new message arrived on my phone. The sender was Eleanor.

“If you want to find out what your mother left behind, come alone. Otherwise Julian will lose everything…”