My Fiancé's Baby Isn't Mine, So Neither Is My Fortune novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Eleven Papers

The deed has one signature where two are needed, Bethany sends the guests home and Derrick breaks Dean's grip on her wrist, and Dean says her uncle Bradford told him she would do exactly this.

"Let me see it," I said.

Dean held the paper out of reach for a second, enjoying it.

Then he put it in my hand.

It was a quitclaim deed for the carriage house and its lot, dated in March.

At the bottom was my signature, and a notary's stamp beside it.

It was my signature.

I remembered the evening he put it in front of me.

We were at dinner, he had a stack of papers for his new job, and he turned each page over so I could sign the line at the bottom.

There had been a whole stack of them.

"I signed a lot of things in March," I said.

"You signed this one," Dean said.

Derrick took the deed out of my fingers and read it standing up.

He read it all the way to the bottom.

"This house belongs to the Ames family trust," he said. "Anything the trust sells needs two trustee signatures."

"She's the trustee," Dean said.

"One of two. The other is her mother."

Derrick held the page up so the lanterns lit it.

"There is one signature on this deed, Ms. Ames's. Honor Auchincloss Ames never signed it, so it sells nothing."

The lawn was silent.

Dean's smile slipped, and he put it back on.

"My lawyer filed it. He said it was fine."

"Then call him," Derrick said.

Dean took out his phone and dialed with his thumb.

It rang until a recording picked up.

He dialed again.

A woman near the lanterns whispered, "Oh my God," and held her phone higher.

I turned to the caterer's manager.

"Send me the bill for tonight. I'll pay it myself. Please give your staff the evening, and keep your gratuity."

"Thank you, Ms. Ames," he said, and hurried back to his van.

Then I faced the lawn.

"Thank you all for coming," I said. "This is my house, and I'm asking everyone to leave now."

Nobody moved for a moment.

Then a man from Dean's gym put his glass on the grass and said, "Sorry, Dean," and picked up his jacket.

A couple I had known for ten years walked past me without meeting my eye.

Another woman, the one I'd known since college, touched my arm on the way out.

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I swear I didn't know."

"I believe you," I said.

The lanterns swung in the wind, and the lawn emptied.

Dean stood alone in the middle of it with the deed hanging from his hand.

Heidi sat in her white chair holding the baby and crying without a sound.

"Bethany, please," she said. "He's only a few hours old."

"I'm not touching him," I said. "I'm asking you to leave my house."

"We have nowhere to go."

"You have Dean's apartment," I said. "He's kept one on Atlantic Avenue for two years. I paid for that too."

Her tears stopped for a moment.

She looked at Dean.

Dean stared at me.

Then he crossed the grass and grabbed my wrist.

"You think you can do this to me?"

His thumb pressed hard into the bone.

"Six years," he said. "I gave you six years."

"You gave me eight canceled weddings."

"Let go of her."

Derrick had not raised his voice, and he had not moved yet.

Dean did not let go.

Derrick took two steps, put one hand over Dean's hand and turned it up and away from my arm.

Dean cried out and went down on one knee on the lawn.

"That's enough," Derrick said.

I rubbed my wrist.

There were white marks on it already, and they would be dark by morning.

"Call the police if you want," Dean said through his teeth. He was holding his own fingers. "Go ahead. Tell them I'm a violent man and see what the whole city thinks."

"I have the video," I said. "So do forty other people."

He looked around the lawn for the first time and saw the phones still pointed at him from the garden wall.

Heidi called out in a thin voice.

"Dean, please, not here. The baby."

He stood up and let go of his hand.

He walked toward the house, then stopped and turned around with his face twisted.

"You'll be on your knees by Friday," he said. "Your uncle told me you'd do exactly this."

"He said you always make a scene first and crawl back after."

I stared at him.

"My uncle Bradford talked to you about me?"

Dean smiled at last.

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