I Married the Son of the Man Who Killed My Mother

by Nadia Voss

I married the son of the man who killed my mother. On our wedding night he handed me the blueprints to his father's vault and said: I've been waiting four years for someone with a reason.

Eleven months after my mother went off a bridge with a sealed toxicology report, I stood in a cathedral and married Nathaniel Wren, whose father buried the drug trial she was about to publish. Everyone at that wedding thought it was a merger. My grandmother thought she was selling me. My husband thought I was a Rakes doing what Rakes women do. And on our wedding night, Nathaniel put a folder in my hands, opened it to a floor plan of his father's archive, and said the sentence that changed everything: I know why you married me. Now let me help.

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