Chapter 3 - Brittany Thought She Was Becoming Mrs. Collins
Brittany called me the next morning.
That surprised me.
I nearly ignored the number.
Then I remembered the shirt.
FUTURE MRS. COLLINS.
Not Future Mrs. Reeves.
Collins.
That detail had bothered me all night.
I answered.
“Mara?”
“Yes.”
“It’s Brittany.”
“I know.”
Silence.
“I think Nathan lied to me.”
I almost admired the speed of her realization.
“What did he tell you?”
“That you had been separated since January.”
“We celebrated our anniversary in March.”
She was quiet.
“He said it was for appearances.”
“We spent four nights in Charleston.”
Another pause.
“He said you slept separately.”
“We did one night because he had food poisoning.”
Brittany exhaled.
I could almost hear the lies collapsing.
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“Why did your shirt say Collins?”
Silence.
“What?”
“Future Mrs. Collins. Nathan’s last name is Reeves.”
“He said he was changing it.”
My entire body went still.
“To Collins?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He said after the divorce he was rebranding personally around the company.”
I actually laughed.
Brittany sounded wounded.
“This isn’t funny.”
“No.”
I sat down.
“It really isn’t.”
Nathan wanted my business name.
My family name.
Then apparently wanted to wear it himself.
“Did he tell you I agreed to that?”
“He said you didn’t care about the company anymore.”
There it was.
Again.
The same story he told my family.
Mara was disengaged.
Mara was unstable.
Mara struggled with transition.
Mara had already agreed.
A woman could be erased surprisingly efficiently if enough people heard the same version first.
“What else did he tell you?”
“That you wanted cash instead of ownership.”
“I never said that.”
“He showed me the division sheet.”
My grip tightened.
“The one with my initials?”
“Yes.”
“Where did he say it came from?”
“He said you and your attorneys had been negotiating privately.”
“I didn’t have an attorney until yesterday.”
Silence.
Then Brittany whispered, “Oh my God.”
I did not comfort her.
She had knowingly had an affair with my husband.
She had knowingly arrived at my family reunion in that shirt.
Her humiliation was not mine to manage.
But I needed information.
“How long have you been seeing him?”
“Seven months.”
Nathan had told my relatives our marriage ended “months ago.”
Convenient.
“Do you work for Queen City Heritage Holdings?”
The silence changed.
“Yes.”
There it was.
“What do you do?”
“Brand development.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Brittany worked in marketing.
I remembered now.
Nathan had introduced her as a consultant on a luxury renovation campaign.
“What exactly are you branding?”
She hesitated.
“Historic residential renovation. High-end restoration. Design services.”
“In Charlotte?”
“And eventually Raleigh and Charleston.”
That was Collins House & Co.
Not adjacent.
Not inspired by.
Our exact market.
“What name?”
Another pause.
“Collins Heritage.”
I almost stopped breathing.
“Say that again.”
“Collins Heritage.”
Nathan had created Queen City Heritage Holdings to launch a competing business using my surname.
My design archive.
Our client base.
Our vendor relationships.
Possibly our active contracts.
And Brittany had been helping.
“Did he tell you where the Collins name came from?”
“He said it was his brand.”
“It’s my maiden name.”
Nothing.
Then softly:
“What?”
“My legal name before I married him was Mara Collins. The company was named after my family.”
“Oh.”
Small word.
Large collapse.
I asked, “Did you ever wonder why his name is Nathan Reeves?”
“He said Collins was a legacy business name.”
“It is.”
I smiled without humor.
“My legacy.”
Brittany began crying.
That did not move me as much as she probably hoped.
“I didn’t know.”
“You knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“You knew the business was jointly owned.”
“He said you were leaving it.”
“You knew that only because he told you.”
“I know.”
At least she was starting to understand.
Then she said, “There’s a launch deck.”
My attention sharpened.
“What?”
“Collins Heritage. Nathan has been showing it to investors.”
“When?”
“Next week there’s a private dinner.”
“Who’s attending?”
She gave me three names.
I knew all of them.
Clients and investors originally introduced through Collins House.
One had been my grandfather’s banker.
Another had hired us for seven projects.
Nathan was not only planning a new life.
He was preparing to move the economic value of our company into a vehicle he controlled before our divorce.
“Send me everything.”
Brittany hesitated.
“My lawyer—”
“Then send it through your lawyer.”
“You think I need one?”
“Yes.”
She was silent.
“Why?”
“Because if Nathan forged my initials, moved business assets, and made representations in your name too, you need someone whose loyalty begins and ends with you.”
That was advice I wished someone had given me years earlier.
An hour later, Caroline received the first document from Brittany’s attorney.
The Collins Heritage investor deck.
Slide one:
A NEW ERA IN SOUTHERN RESTORATION.
Founder & CEO: Nathan Reeves.
Chief Brand Officer: Brittany Lane.
Slide four claimed the company would launch with “an established twelve-year design archive and proven vendor ecosystem.”
Mine.
Slide seven listed a proprietary restoration methodology.
Mine.
Slide nine included before-and-after photographs from Collins House projects.
Ours.
Slide twelve claimed “over $38 million in historical client relationships migrating with the leadership team.”
Migrating.
Like clients were birds.
Caroline read the deck in silence.
Then she said, “He isn’t planning a divorce.”
I looked at her.
“He’s planning an extraction.”
That was exactly what it was.
Nathan did not intend to divide Collins House & Co.
May you like
He intended to remove what made it valuable first.
Then hand me half of what remained.
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