Chapter 3
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Marcus.
We sat at opposite ends of our living room while our daughter slept upstairs, listening through the baby monitor.
The distance between us felt larger than the entire house.
"Start from the beginning," I told him.
Marcus rubbed his hands together.
"My father established a family trust before he died."
"I know about the trust."
"Not all of it."
I stared at him.
He looked miserable.
"My father owned several commercial properties and part of a manufacturing company. When he died, the trust gave me income, but Mom retained certain administrative responsibilities."
"How much money are we talking about?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Several million dollars in assets."
I leaned back.
I'd known his family was wealthy.
I hadn't known the full details.
"And what does Ava have to do with it?"
"My father wanted the trust to protect his grandchildren. Once my first child was born, a portion of the assets would be placed under new management for that child's benefit."
"Whose management?"
Marcus looked directly at me.
"The child's legal guardians, subject to independent trustee oversight."
I stared at him.
"Both parents?"
"Yes."
Suddenly, Diane's behavior made terrible sense.
She'd spent years treating me as an intruder.
Someone who had entered her family and threatened everything she considered hers.
But Ava's birth had changed more than our household.
It had changed the financial arrangements Diane had controlled for years.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Because I didn't think it mattered to our marriage."
I stood.
"You didn't think millions of dollars and your mother's control over them mattered?"
"I never wanted money to come between us."
"Money didn't come between us, Marcus. Lies did."
He flinched.
Good.
I wanted him to understand that I wasn't going to soothe him through the consequences of his own decisions.
My phone vibrated.
A message from my best friend, Tasha.
"Girl, are you awake? Diane just called me asking questions about your marriage."
I stared at the screen.
Then I called her.
Tasha answered immediately.
"Nia, what is going on?"
I told her everything.
The accusation.
The fake test.
The hospital confirmation.
Vernon's phone call.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she said, "That woman is dangerous."
"I know."
"No, Nia. I mean you need to protect yourself legally."
Tasha worked as a paralegal for a family-law firm.
She wasn't easily frightened.
But her voice was serious.
"Save every message. Photograph that DNA report. Write down everything that happened."
Marcus looked up.
I put the call on speaker.
Tasha continued.
"And Nia? Do not sign anything Diane sends you."
My heart jumped.
"Why would she send me something?"
"Because people who create fake evidence usually don't stop at one document."
The next morning, Tasha helped me arrange a consultation with an attorney named Elaine Brooks.
Marcus offered to come.
I refused.
"I need someone representing my interests."
He looked hurt.
"I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
I wanted to believe him.
But belief was exactly what had put me in this situation.
At Elaine's office, I explained everything.
She listened carefully while studying the DNA report.
"This document has several irregularities," she said.
She pointed to the letterhead.
"The laboratory identification doesn't match the hospital's official format."
Then she examined the envelope.
"No reliable chain-of-custody information. No verifiable report number."
I nodded.
"I noticed those things."
Elaine looked impressed.
"You have a medical background?"
"I'm a registered nurse."
"Then you probably understand why this matters."
She set down the document.
"Someone created paperwork designed to look like medical evidence."
I swallowed.
"Can we prove who did it?"
"Possibly. But don't assume the answer until we have records."
She explained that there could be civil consequences for fraud, defamation, and other conduct, depending on what could be established.
Then she asked something unexpected.
"Has anyone tried to obtain your daughter's personal information?"
I thought for a moment.
"Diane asked for a copy of Ava's birth certificate last week."
Elaine's expression sharpened.
"Did you give it to her?"
"No. I told her we hadn't received the certified copies yet."
"What did she say?"
"She got angry."
I remembered the conversation clearly.
Diane had insisted she needed the certificate for a family insurance matter.
When I offered to contact the insurance company directly, she accused me of being ungrateful.
Elaine wrote something down.
"From now on, treat your child's documents as confidential."
I agreed.
Before leaving, she gave me a list of steps to take.
Preserve evidence.
Secure my accounts.
Contact the hospital's privacy office.
Avoid discussing the investigation with Diane.
Most importantly, establish clear boundaries around Ava.
When I returned home, Marcus was sitting at the kitchen island.
He stood immediately.
"How did it go?"
I placed my handbag on the counter.
"I hired my own attorney."
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
"And I don't want your mother around Ava."
He looked down.
"Okay."
I studied him.
"You agree?"
"After what happened yesterday, I don't trust her."
His answer should have reassured me.
Instead, it made me sad.
It had taken the possibility of financial fraud for him to see what I'd been experiencing for years.
Marcus reached for my hand.
"Nia, I am so sorry."
I pulled away.
"Sorry doesn't erase what you said."
"I know."
"You looked at our daughter and asked whether she belonged to you."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I'll never forgive myself for that."
I swallowed.
"Then start by making sure it never happens again."
He nodded.
"I will."
That afternoon, Marcus contacted the attorney responsible for his father's estate.
Her name was Rebecca Stone.
She agreed to meet with us the following morning.
But before the appointment, she sent Marcus a secure message.
He read it twice.
Then handed me his phone.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
His face had gone white.
The message stated that Diane had requested an emergency modification to the trust administration.
The request included a supporting declaration.
A declaration claiming that Marcus's newborn daughter was not biologically related to the Carter family.
Attached to it was the fake DNA test.
I stared at the screen.
Diane hadn't merely tried to destroy my marriage.
May you like
She had used a forged document to interfere with my daughter's inheritance.
And according to the timestamp, she'd submitted it before Marcus had even confronted me.
