Chapter 2
Tiana walked into the frame.
For several seconds, my brain refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
My fiancée.
The woman whose wedding dress was hanging in our guest-room closet.
The woman who slept beside me.
The woman who kissed Noah every morning and called him her bonus son.
She stepped out of Andre’s house.
And she was angry.
Not at Andre.
At Noah.
The recording shook.
Tiana pointed toward my son.
“You should’ve kept your mouth shut.”
I heard Noah’s younger voice from behind the phone.
“I’m telling my dad.”
Andre appeared beside her.
“You’re not telling anybody.”
Then Tiana said something that made my blood turn cold.
“If Marcus finds out, we lose everything.”
I paused the video.
My hand trembled.
“What do you lose?”
Neither Andre nor Tiana was standing in front of me now.
Only Andre.
But suddenly I felt like both of them had surrounded my son.
Andre swallowed.
“You’re misunderstanding it.”
I turned toward him.
“What am I misunderstanding?”
“It’s complicated.”
“My son has a bruise on his face.”
“Marcus—”
“And my fiancée is on this recording telling him to keep something from me.”
He looked toward the house.
That movement told me someone might still be inside.
I followed his eyes.
“Who else is here?”
“No one.”
I looked back at Noah.
He shook his head.
Andre noticed.
His expression hardened.
“Noah.”
I stepped directly into his path.
“Don’t say his name.”
For the first time, Andre looked genuinely frightened.
Noah tugged my sleeve.
“Dad, I want to go home.”
That ended the conversation.
I took his hand.
We walked toward my truck.
Andre followed us halfway down the driveway.
“Marcus, we need to talk before you do something stupid.”
I stopped.
I looked back at my brother.
“My son is bruised.”
He said nothing.
“He has a recording you’re afraid of.”
Silence.
“And you’re warning me not to do something stupid?”
Andre lowered his voice.
“You don’t know what Noah saw.”
“No.”
I opened the passenger door.
“But I’m going to.”
Andre’s phone was already in his hand when we drove away.
I knew exactly who he was calling.
Tiana.
Ten minutes later, she called me.
I ignored it.
She called again.
Ignored.
Then a text appeared.
Where are you?
Another.
We need to talk before Noah confuses you.
I nearly crushed the steering wheel.
Noah saw the message.
His face changed.
“She told me you wouldn’t believe me.”
I glanced at him.
“What?”
He stared at his hands.
“She said adults believe adults.”
I pulled into an empty grocery-store parking lot and stopped the truck.
I couldn’t drive after hearing that.
I turned toward him.
“Noah.”
He wouldn’t look at me.
“How long has something been happening?”
His mouth trembled.
“A few months.”
My heart dropped.
“What has been happening?”
“Tiana kept taking me to Uncle Andre’s house.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
I struggled to keep my voice calm.
“Why?”
“She said you were working.”
That part was true.
My construction company had landed our biggest contract in years.
I had been spending twelve-hour days on site.
I thought Tiana was helping our family.
Instead, she had been taking my son somewhere he was afraid to go.
“What happened today?”
Noah rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“I came downstairs and heard them arguing.”
“Who?”
“Tiana and Uncle Andre.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
That word landed hard.
Andre worked for me.
More accurately, he managed purchasing for Carter Development.
He had access to vendor accounts.
Invoices.
Project budgets.
I had trusted him completely.
“What did they say?”
Noah looked at me.
“They said you were going to notice money missing.”
My body went still.
“And?”
“Tiana said the wedding had to happen first.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“She said after you married her, fixing the rest would be easier.”
I felt sick.
Noah continued.
“I started recording because it sounded bad.”
That was when they noticed him.
Andre had grabbed the phone.
Noah held on.
There had been shouting.
Andre’s teenage son, Caleb, had come downstairs.
Instead of helping Noah, Caleb blocked the door.
Tiana demanded the phone.
Noah refused.
Then Andre slapped him.
My vision blurred with rage.
But I forced myself to listen.
“Did anyone hit you anywhere else?”
“No.”
“Did anyone threaten you?”
His eyes filled.
“Tiana said if I destroyed your wedding, you’d hate me.”
I had to turn away.
That hurt worse than the bruise.
My son had spent months living with a woman who had convinced him my love could be taken away.
I reached across the console and pulled him into my arms.
“No wedding could ever matter more than you.”
He started crying then.
Not quietly.
His whole body shook.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“You’re telling me now.”
I held him until his breathing slowed.
Then I asked the hardest question.
“Is everything on the phone?”
He pulled back.
“No.”
“What else?”
“I sent some videos somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“Mom’s old cloud account.”
His mother, Rochelle, had died four years earlier after a sudden brain aneurysm.
We had kept her email account because Noah sometimes wrote messages to her when he missed her.
Apparently, he had remembered something I had forgotten.
The storage connected to it still worked.
“If they took my phone,” he whispered, “I didn’t want them deleting everything.”
I looked at my twelve-year-old son.
He had built a backup plan because the adults around him had made him feel unsafe.
That realization nearly broke me.
My phone rang again.
Tiana.
This time I answered.
“Marcus.”
She sounded breathless.
“Where are you?”
“With my son.”
“Good. Then please listen to me before he tells you some crazy story.”
I looked at Noah.
His face fell.
Something inside me became perfectly calm.
“Come home, Tiana.”
She exhaled.
“Thank God.”
“Bring nothing.”
Silence.
“What?”
“No bags.”
“Marcus—”
“No laptop.”
Her breathing changed.
“No documents.”
More silence.
“And don’t call Andre again.”
She whispered my name.
I ended the call.
Noah stared at me.
“What happens now?”
I started the truck.
“Now we find out what they were so afraid you recorded.”
We drove home.
May you like
When I turned onto our street, Tiana’s car was already in the driveway.
And sitting beside it was my mother’s Mercedes.
