Chapter 2 - “I Buried You”
The bridal lounge had been designed for photographs.
White velvet chairs.
A gilt mirror.
Champagne in silver buckets.
Within five minutes it became an interrogation room.
Cameron closed the door.
Isabella remained standing.
Julian stood beside the window.
No one spoke.
Finally Cameron said, “Start.”
Julian answered first.
“I came to stop an illegal marriage.”
Cameron turned.
“You lost the privilege of framing this after what you did out there.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
Cameron continued.
“You kissed a woman without her consent in front of two hundred people.”
“Yes.”
“That was not necessary.”
“No.”
Isabella looked at Julian.
The admission surprised her.
Cameron said, “Good. We’ll come back to that. Isabella?”
Her hands shook.
She removed her veil.
“I married Julian six years ago.”
Cameron closed his eyes.
The words were confirmation, but hearing them still hurt.
“When?”
“April ninth.”
“Where?”
“Savannah.”
“How long were you married?”
“Eleven months before he disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Isabella looked at Julian.
“He was traveling for Crowe Atlantic. There was an accident.”
Julian said, “That was what they told you.”
She ignored him.
“A vehicle went off a mountain road in Montenegro. There was fire. They found wreckage. Personal effects.”
“Body?”
“No.”
Cameron stared.
“No body?”
“They told me remains were recovered but could not be visually identified.”
Julian’s face hardened.
Isabella continued.
“There was a DNA identification process.”
Julian said, “There was no legitimate one.”
“Stop.”
Isabella turned on him.
“You do not get to stand there after six years and tell me what I lived.”
“I know.”
“You know nothing.”
“I know what they did.”
“No. You know what happened to you.”
She pointed toward herself.
“You don’t know what happened to me.”
Julian went silent.
Cameron watched both of them.
“What did you bury?”
Isabella’s voice became quieter.
“An urn.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Julian’s uncle.”
Julian looked away.
“Malcolm Crowe.”
Cameron knew the name.
Anyone who followed East Coast business knew Malcolm Crowe.
Chairman of Crowe Atlantic Holdings.
Ports.
Shipping infrastructure.
Logistics contracts.
A family fortune that began with coastal freight and grew into something closer to an empire.
“Was there a funeral?”
“A memorial.”
“With legal documents?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“A death certificate. Insurance correspondence. Estate papers.”
Julian opened the envelope again.
“Show him.”
Isabella glared.
Julian removed his own documents.
“I checked every jurisdiction connected to the marriage and every relevant family court record I could lawfully obtain. There is no divorce decree.”
Cameron said, “That doesn’t prove no legal termination occurred.”
“No.”
Julian’s answer came without defensiveness.
“It proves I found none.”
Cameron looked at Isabella.
“Did you ever file for divorce?”
“No.”
“Did you ever ask a court to declare him dead?”
She frowned.
“I thought that had already happened.”
“Who told you?”
“Malcolm’s attorneys.”
Cameron leaned against the vanity.
“Did you ever verify independently?”
Pain crossed her face.
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was twenty-five. My husband was dead.”
Julian flinched at the sentence.
“They handled everything. Julian’s family had lawyers everywhere. They told me there was nothing left to do.”
Cameron was quiet.
Then he asked the question Isabella had feared since Julian entered the hall.
“What did you tell me?”
She began crying.
Cameron did not rescue her from it.
“You told me there had been someone before me.”
“Yes.”
“You said fiancé.”
“Yes.”
“Not husband.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I…”
Cameron waited.
“There is no answer that will make that okay.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Isabella sat.
The wedding dress spread across the floor.
“After Julian died, everything connected to the Crowes became poisonous.”
Julian’s expression changed.
She continued.
“I spent years trying to stop being the widow everyone whispered about. When I met you, I told myself the legal distinction didn’t matter because he was gone.”
“It mattered to me.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Cameron shook his head.
“You know now.”
Isabella looked down.
He was right.
Julian spoke.
“She genuinely thought I was dead.”
Cameron turned sharply.
“You do not get to testify for her.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Julian nodded once.
Fair.
Cameron pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling Daniel.”
Isabella looked up.
“Your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Cameron, our guests—”
He stared.
“Our guests are the least important people in this building right now.”
That shut down the sentence.
Cameron called Daniel Mercer, his personal attorney in Charleston.
He gave only the facts he knew.
Existing marriage certificate.
No known divorce.
Alleged death.
Disputed status.
Daniel’s answer was immediate.
“Do not complete the ceremony.”
Cameron looked at Isabella.
She heard.
He ended the call.
Isabella whispered, “So that’s it?”
“No.”
Cameron’s face had become unreadable.
“That is what we know today.”
She stared.
“You’re not canceling?”
“I am stopping a ceremony until I know whether you are legally free to have one.”
Julian almost smiled.
Cameron saw it.
“Don’t.”
The smile vanished.
Cameron continued.
“I am also not declaring you her husband because you walked in carrying a certificate.”
Julian nodded.
“Good.”
Cameron looked between them.
“One of you believed a man was dead.”
“The other believed his wife abandoned him.”
Julian’s eyes sharpened.
“How do you know that?”
Cameron looked at him.
“Because if you believed she mourned you, you wouldn’t have walked into her wedding like that.”
For the first time Julian lost control of his expression.
Cameron saw pain.
Then anger.
Then confirmation.
He looked at Isabella.
“Someone lied to both of you.”
Isabella whispered, “Yes.”
Cameron shook his head.
“Maybe.”
He walked toward the door.
Isabella stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To tell two hundred people there will be no ceremony today.”
Her face crumpled.
Cameron stopped with his hand on the handle.
He did not look back.
“But do not confuse that with me deciding who is guilty.”
Then he opened the door.
May you like
The wedding ended without vows.
The real marriage investigation had just begun.
