“Nope.”

“Do you know when your flight home is?”

He frowned.

“With Rhiannon. After the honeymoon.”

I handed the papers back.

“Okay, buddy. Keep these safe.”

It was possible his return ticket had been booked separately.

But I wanted proof before he boarded that plane.

I stepped away and emailed Mr. Whitcomb, the Savannah estate attorney who’d helped Dad establish Petey’s trust.

Urgent. Unexpected marriage. Possible financial exploitation. Multiple documents signed. International travel tomorrow. Please call.

Then I returned to the reception.

Petey was standing beside the cake, trying to convince Mom to let him have another slice.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Pete. How about a brothers’ night? Pizza and a Braves replay at my hotel.”

His face lit up.

“Really? Just us?”

“Just us.”

Rhiannon approached before he could say anything else.

“Peter’s staying with me tonight. We have an early flight.”

“I thought he could decide whether he wants pizza with his brother.”

“He’s my husband.”

“And he’s still allowed to spend time with his family.”

Petey looked between us.

“Can I go, Rhiannon? I haven’t seen Cal in forever.”

She glanced toward the guests watching nearby.

“Fine. But don’t stay out late.”

Petey grinned.

“Pizza!”

As we walked toward the gate, I glanced back.

Rhiannon had pulled Brent aside and was speaking rapidly into his ear.

He looked toward me, then toward Petey.

I didn’t know what they were discussing.

But I wasn’t letting my brother leave the country until I understood why his return ticket was missing.

PART 2 — THE PAPERS IN HER PURSE

At the hotel, Petey ordered pepperoni pizza and settled onto the sofa to watch a Braves game.

For half an hour, everything felt normal. He complained about the pitching, laughed at a commercial, and told me about a customer who’d given him a Braves keychain.

Then I asked about Rhiannon.

“You really love her, huh?”

He nodded.

“A lot. She says I’m the nicest man she’s ever met.”

“What do you like about her?”

“She likes my music. She takes me places. And she says I don’t have to ask people what to do anymore.”

I paused.

“What does she mean?”

“She says married people make their own decisions.”

“They do. But married people can still ask questions and get help.”

He looked down at his pizza.

“She says you won’t like her because of Dad’s money.”

“I don’t know her well enough to decide what I think. I’m worried about those papers, though.”

“She said they were important.”

“Did she explain what each one said?”

He shook his head.

“She told me where to sign.”

I sat beside him.

“Pete, you haven’t done anything wrong. I just want to make sure nobody’s asking you to agree to something you don’t understand.”

He looked worried.

“Are you mad I got married?”

“No, buddy. I’m not mad that you want to be married. I want you to be happy.”

He leaned against my shoulder.

“Okay.”

My phone rang a few minutes later.

Mr. Whitcomb.

I stepped into the adjoining room and explained everything.

He listened carefully.

“Callum, we need to separate the marriage from the financial documents,” he said. “The guardianship order doesn’t automatically make every personal decision Peter makes invalid.”

“What about the trust?”

“You’re the trustee. Marriage doesn’t give his wife access to the assets. But I want to see what she’s had him sign.”

He advised me to preserve the itinerary, document what Petey had told me, and contact adult protective services if I believed financial exploitation was occurring.

He also agreed to meet with us the following morning.

When I returned to the living room, Petey was asleep beneath a hotel blanket.

I sat beside him for a while, watching the game with the sound turned low.

For the first time since arriving in Savannah, I wondered what might have happened if I hadn’t come home.

THE FOUR-HUNDRED-THOUSAND-DOLLAR REQUEST

The next morning, Rhiannon called repeatedly.

I answered on the fourth attempt.

“Where’s Peter?” she demanded.

“He’s having breakfast.”

“He was supposed to come home last night. We’re leaving for Atlanta.”

“I know about the flight. I’ve seen the itinerary.”

She hesitated.

“What about it?”

“Peter isn’t listed on the return booking.”

“His ticket was booked separately.”

“Then send me the confirmation.”

“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“I’m not asking you to prove your marriage. I’m asking when my brother is coming home.”

“You’re trying to ruin our honeymoon because you can’t stand losing control of him.”

She ended the call.

An hour later, I was sitting in Mr. Whitcomb’s office with Mom and Petey.

Mom was furious.

“You kept him at a hotel all night and now you’re dragging us to a lawyer?”

“I invited him for pizza. He wanted to come. And we need to review what he signed.”

“You’re treating his wedding like a criminal investigation.”

Mr. Whitcomb raised a hand.

“Mrs. Reid, nobody is questioning Peter’s right to have a relationship. We’re trying to establish whether he understood several documents that may affect his finances.”

Mom crossed her arms.

“Rhiannon told me everything was perfectly legal.”

“Then reviewing the papers should put everyone’s mind at ease.”

Rhiannon arrived twenty minutes later with Brent.

She entered confidently, carrying a large cream-colored handbag.

“I hope this won’t take long,” she said. “Peter and I have a honeymoon to catch.”

Mr. Whitcomb gestured toward a chair.

“Thank you for coming. We’d like to review the documents Peter signed yesterday.”

Rhiannon sat down.

“They’re standard marriage paperwork.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“Including the request for a four-hundred-thousand-dollar trust distribution?”

Her expression changed.

Mom turned toward her.

“Four hundred thousand dollars?”

Rhiannon recovered quickly.

“It’s for a home. Peter and I want to start our marriage properly.”

“Did Peter understand the amount?” Whitcomb asked.

“Of course.”

He looked at Petey.

“Peter, can you tell me what you understood about the house?”

Petey shifted in his chair.

“Rhiannon said we’d get a big house with a swimming pool.”

“Did she tell you how much it would cost?”

He shook his head.

Rhiannon interrupted.

“He’s not good with numbers. That’s why I handle those things.”

Whitcomb kept his voice calm.

“The trust has specific requirements for distributions. Marriage doesn’t authorize anyone to withdraw money from it.”

“I’m his wife.”

“I understand. But the trustee still has to follow the trust terms.”

Rhiannon leaned forward.

“So you’re saying his own money can’t be used for his own home?”

“I’m saying a distribution must comply with the trust and be made for Peter’s benefit. A marriage certificate doesn’t override that.”

Mom looked between them.

“Rhiannon, why didn’t you tell me about this?”

“Because it’s between me and Peter.”

“You told me you two were going to rent an apartment.”

Rhiannon’s face tightened.

“Plans change.”

Whitcomb opened another document.

“We also have a power of attorney naming you as Peter’s financial agent. Who prepared this?”

Brent answered.

“A friend helped us.”

“Was Peter advised independently about what authority he was granting?”

Rhiannon gave an irritated laugh.

“This is ridiculous. You’re acting like he can’t make decisions.”

Petey looked at her.

“You said those papers were for our house.”

She turned toward him.

“Sweetheart, they are. It’s complicated.”

“But you said I was signing wedding papers.”

For the first time, Rhiannon had no immediate answer.

Mr. Whitcomb closed the folder.

“We’ll be reviewing these documents in light of the guardianship order and the circumstances of their execution. Until that review is complete, I strongly advise against proceeding with the financial arrangements.”

Rhiannon stood.

“We’re leaving. Peter, get your things.”

Petey didn’t move.

“I want to stay with Cal right now.”

She stared at him.

“Peter, don’t be difficult.”

His face fell.

“I’m not being difficult.”

I stood beside him.

“He said he wants to stay.”

Rhiannon looked toward Mom, expecting support.