Chapter 5
The attempted transfer was for three million dollars.
I stared at the number on the bank notification.
Three million.
Money associated with a trust created to protect my family's future.
Money that included assets designated for Noah.
And someone had tried to move it on the same day Nia finally revealed the truth.
I sat in my study with a newly retained attorney named Rachel Monroe.
She was a respected Black attorney specializing in trusts and financial disputes.
My chief financial officer, Daniel Brooks, joined us by video.
Rachel examined the bank's notice.
"The transfer wasn't completed."
I exhaled.
"Thank God."
"But we need to determine who requested it and under what authority."
I nodded.
"Claire signed the authorization."
Rachel studied the document.
"That's what it appears to show."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Can we freeze the accounts?"
"We can ask the institutions to apply appropriate safeguards while the authority and transaction are reviewed."
I nodded.
"Do it."
Daniel leaned toward his camera.
"Marcus, there's something else."
I looked up.
"What?"
"We reviewed recent financial activity connected to the foundation."
My stomach tightened.
"And?"
"Several payments went to a consulting company connected to Vanessa."
I stared at him.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Nearly eight hundred thousand dollars over four years."
I felt sick.
Eight hundred thousand.
While I believed Vanessa was helping raise Noah, she had apparently been receiving money through companies connected to my family.
Rachel spoke carefully.
"Some payments may be legitimate. We'll need invoices, contracts, and evidence of services performed."
I nodded.
But I couldn't ignore the timing.
Everything began shortly after Noah's birth.
Shortly after Nia disappeared.
Shortly after Vanessa became indispensable in my life.
I leaned back.
"Review every payment."
Daniel nodded.
"We will."
After the meeting, I walked toward the guest wing.
Nia was sitting by a window.
She had changed out of her maid's uniform into simple black trousers and a cream sweater.
For the first time that night, she looked like herself.
I stopped in the doorway.
"Can we talk?"
She nodded.
"Of course."
I sat across from her.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked the question I'd been afraid to ask.
"Where did you go after the hospital?"
Nia looked down.
"My aunt took me in."
"Your aunt?"
"Aunt Ruth. She lived in Savannah."
I nodded slowly.
I remembered Ruth.
She had visited once during Nia's pregnancy.
She was a retired teacher with a warm smile.
Nia continued.
"When I woke up and they told me Noah died, I didn't know how to keep living."
My chest tightened.
"I spent months in rehabilitation."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I couldn't walk without help at first."
I closed my eyes.
While I was learning how to care for a newborn, Nia had been relearning how to walk.
She continued.
"I tried contacting you."
I looked at her.
"When?"
"After I was discharged from rehabilitation."
My stomach twisted.
"I never heard from you."
"I know."
She began crying.
"I sent letters to your office. I called the number I had."
I swallowed.
"Why didn't you come in person?"
She looked away.
"Because I was told you wanted nothing to do with me."
My chest tightened.
"Who told you that?"
She hesitated.
"Claire."
I stared at her.
Nia continued.
"She said you'd blamed me for what happened to Noah."
I felt sick.
"She told you our son was dead, then told you I blamed you?"
Nia nodded.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I believed you hated me."
I covered my face.
For four years, we'd both been grieving something that wasn't true.
I looked at her.
"I never hated you."
She began crying harder.
"I thought you did."
I reached across the table.
Then hesitated.
Finally, I gently took her hand.
"Nia, I didn't know."
She squeezed my fingers.
"I know that now."
For a moment, we sat together in silence.
Then she looked at me.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Did you really believe I abandoned him?"
My throat tightened.
I nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Her face crumpled.
I hated admitting it.
But she deserved the truth.
"Vanessa gave me a letter," I explained.
"It was supposedly from you."
Nia looked up.
"What letter?"
I stood.
Then retrieved the original from my office safe.
I'd kept it for years.
Not because I wanted to remember the pain.
Because I couldn't understand it.
I handed it to her.
She read the first lines.
Then shook her head.
"I didn't write this."
My chest tightened.
She continued reading.
"I would never call Noah a mistake."
Her voice broke.
I looked at the letter.
Those words were there.
I can't live with the mistake of becoming a mother before I'm ready.
I had reread that sentence hundreds of times.
Now Nia was telling me she'd never written it.
I sat down slowly.
"I believed it."
She looked at me through tears.
"I know."
My chest hurt.
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head.
"You were lied to too."
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Nia reached into her bag.
She removed a small photograph.
It showed an empty hospital bassinet.
Beside it was a tiny knitted blue blanket.
"I kept this," she whispered.
I stared at it.
"Why?"
"Because I thought it was the only thing I had left of our son."
I began crying.
Nia looked down.
"Every birthday, I bought a small toy."
My chest tightened.
"Every Christmas, I lit a candle."
I couldn't breathe.
"And every year, I wondered what he would have looked like."
I reached for her.
This time, she leaned into my arms.
We cried together.
Not as strangers.
Not as enemies.
But as two parents who had been separated from their child in different ways.
Then Nia whispered something against my shoulder.
"Marcus, I don't want your money."
I pulled back.
She looked directly at me.
"I want my son."
My eyes filled.
"And I want him to know I never stopped loving him."
I nodded.
"He will."
Then she said something that made me freeze.
"There's one more thing you need to know."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She swallowed.
"Before I went into labor, Vanessa visited me."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
May you like
Nia looked down.
"She told me she was pregnant with your baby."
