Cold spread through me that had nothing to do with the rain. They were not only planning to exploit me. They were preparing to trap Terrence with a false narrative built in advance.

I took out my phone. My hands had stopped trembling. I opened the camera and pressed record. The screen captured the dim hallway, the narrow strip of warm light beneath the living-room door, and every word that followed.

Dad talked about the state of his real-estate company. It was much closer to failure than he had admitted — two developments stalled, a lender refusing another credit line without a financially strong guarantor.

Jason had his own crisis: nearly four hundred thousand dollars owed from private gambling and reckless investments hidden from his employer. He needed money quickly and believed marriage would give him access to mine.

Sydney had been involved with him for almost a year. The baby was his. Mom knew. Dad knew. All four of them had decided the easiest solution was to let me marry Jason anyway.

Their glasses touched in a soft toast.