Chapter 3
My mother arrived at the harbor twenty minutes later.
She didn't ask questions when she saw my face.
She simply stepped out of her car, walked toward me, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
That was when I finally broke.
I cried against her chest while my daughters fussed in their stroller.
"Mama," I whispered, "he married somebody else."
My mother went completely still.
"What?"
I pulled back and pointed toward Marcus.
He stood several feet away beside Vanessa.
Neither of them looked at us.
My mother stared at him.
"Marcus Williams."
He lowered his eyes.
"Mrs. Carter."
"Look at me."
He slowly raised his head.
My mother was sixty-one years old.
She was small, graceful, and usually soft-spoken.
But when she became angry, her voice could make grown men tremble.
"Did you marry another woman while my daughter was raising your babies?"
Marcus swallowed.
"It's not what it looks like."
My mother took one step forward.
"Then tell me what it is."
He said nothing.
She looked toward Vanessa.
"Are you the other woman?"
Vanessa began crying.
"I didn't know about Nia."
My mother studied her.
Then she looked at Marcus again.
"You lied to both of them?"
Marcus rubbed his face.
"I made mistakes."
My mother laughed without humor.
"Mistakes?"
She pointed toward the stroller.
"Those babies are not mistakes."
"I know."
"My daughter waiting for you wasn't a mistake."
"I know."
"Then stop calling your choices mistakes."
I had never heard her speak with such cold anger.
Marcus looked away.
My mother turned toward me.
"Get the girls in the car."
I wiped my tears.
"What about him?"
"He can find his own way."
Marcus stepped forward.
"Nia, don't leave like this."
My mother moved between us.
"Not another word."
He stopped.
Vanessa picked up her suitcase.
I hadn't noticed it before.
It was standing beside Marcus's duffel bag.
She looked toward me.
"Can I ask you something?"
I nodded.
"Did he ever tell you he worked for a shipping company called Atlantic Meridian Logistics?"
"Yes."
Her face crumpled.
"That's where he told me he worked too."
I looked at Marcus.
"Why would that surprise you?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"Because he told me he owned part of it."
I stared at her.
"Owned it?"
She nodded.
"He said he was becoming a partner."
Marcus interrupted.
"Vanessa, please."
She turned sharply.
"Stop talking."
I watched her expression harden.
"Did you ever actually work on that ship?"
Marcus looked stunned.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he said, "Of course I did."
But his voice was too quick.
Too defensive.
Vanessa shook her head.
"Then why did you tell me you were staying at company headquarters for the last three months?"
My stomach dropped.
Three months.
Marcus had told me he was crossing the Pacific.
He had sent photographs of the ocean.
He had complained about storms.
He had told me the crew was exhausted.
I stared at him.
"Where have you really been?"
He looked at the ground.
Then he whispered, "Working."
My mother shook her head.
"Come on, Nia."
I lifted Ava from the stroller.
She rested her little head against my shoulder.
I breathed in the familiar scent of baby lotion.
For one brief moment, I remembered the life I thought I had.
Marcus kissing my pregnant belly.
Marcus painting the nursery.
Marcus promising he would never become the kind of father who abandoned his children.
The memory hurt so badly I nearly dropped my keys.
My mother took them.
"I'll drive."
We loaded the girls into their car seats.
As I closed the door, Marcus approached.
"Nia."
I turned.
He looked desperate.
"Please don't tell everyone."
I stared at him.
That was what he cared about?
His reputation?
After everything?
I felt something inside me change.
I stopped crying.
Not because the pain disappeared.
Because anger finally gave me enough strength to stand.
"You should have thought about that before you buried me alive in another woman's story."
His face twisted.
"Nia, I never meant—"
"You told her I was dead."
He swallowed.
"You made a grieving widow out of yourself while I was alive, breastfeeding your daughters, and begging you to come home."
He stepped back.
I leaned closer.
"Whatever happens next, Marcus, you don't get to write my story anymore."
Then I got into my mother's car.
As we drove away, I looked back.
Vanessa was standing alone.
Marcus was talking urgently on his phone.
And his blue duffel bag sat abandoned on the concrete.
For some reason, that bag stayed in my mind.
He had carried it down the ship's ramp.
He had kept it close during our argument.
And when he became frightened, he kept glancing toward it.
I didn't know why.
But I would soon discover that it held another secret.
At my mother's house, I fed the girls while she prepared tea.
The familiar sounds of home almost broke me again.
The kettle boiling.
The refrigerator humming.
My daughters making sleepy noises.
Everything looked normal.
But nothing felt normal.
My mother placed a cup beside me.
"Do you want to talk?"
I shook my head.
"Not yet."
She sat down.
"Then we won't."
For several minutes, we remained quiet.
Finally, I whispered, "Was I stupid?"
My mother looked at me.
"For what?"
"For believing him."
She reached across the table.
"No, baby."
I began crying.
"He lied right in front of me. For months."
She squeezed my hand.
"Trusting your husband isn't stupidity. Betraying your wife is."
I looked at her.
"How am I supposed to raise the girls now?"
"The same way you've been raising them."
I wiped my face.
"Alone?"
She shook her head.
"Never alone."
Her words made me cry harder.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I hesitated.
My mother nodded.
"Answer it."
I put the call on speaker.
A woman's voice spoke.
"Is this Nia Williams?"
"Yes."
"My name is Rachel Greene. I'm calling from Atlantic Meridian Logistics."
My stomach tightened.
"Is Marcus okay?"
There was a pause.
"Mrs. Williams, we're trying to locate your husband."
I stared at the phone.
"Why?"
"Some company property is missing, and his employment records contain inconsistencies."
My heart began pounding.
"What kind of property?"
"I can't discuss everything over the phone."
I looked at my mother.
Rachel continued.
"But I need to ask you something."
"Okay."
"Has Marcus brought home a blue travel duffel bag?"
I stopped breathing.
The bag.
The same bag I had seen at the harbor.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Does he still have it?"
"I don't know."
Rachel's voice became serious.
"Mrs. Williams, please don't attempt to search it yourself."
My mother straightened.
"Why?"
There was another pause.
Then Rachel said something that made my hands go cold.
"Because our investigators believe it may contain financial records connected to a serious fraud investigation."
I stared at the wall.
Marcus hadn't just betrayed our marriage.
He might have put our entire family in danger.
And before I could ask another question, the doorbell rang.
My mother stood.
I looked toward the front door.
Through the frosted glass, I saw a man's silhouette.
Then a familiar voice called out.
"Nia, open up."
Marcus.
He had followed us.
May you like
But when I looked through the window, I noticed something strange.
His blue duffel bag was gone.
