Chapter 7
The café deposit became another piece of the puzzle.
Rebecca obtained records through the appropriate legal process.
The documents showed that New Horizon Living had transferred money to a property company connected to Carla.
The payment was described as a commercial lease deposit.
But the lease had never been finalized.
A portion of the money was later returned to a different account.
Another portion was retained as fees.
Rebecca explained that the transactions required further examination.
We couldn't assume every payment was unlawful.
But the lack of clear documentation was concerning.
I listened carefully.
For weeks, I had wanted to believe there was one simple explanation.
That Nia had fallen in love with Daniel and made terrible decisions out of fear.
But the records suggested the financial activity was broader.
It involved multiple accounts.
Several people.
And repeated attempts to use information belonging to others.
I felt exhausted.
Then my commanding officer called.
He had heard that I was dealing with serious personal issues after returning home.
He asked whether I needed support.
I hesitated.
For most of my military career, I had prided myself on being dependable.
I didn't like admitting I was struggling.
But I was.
"Sir, my marriage is falling apart."
He listened.
I explained what had happened.
Not every legal detail.
Just enough for him to understand.
When I finished, he said, "Walker, you need to take care of yourself."
I swallowed.
"Yes, sir."
He continued.
"Use the support resources available to you. Speak with a counselor. Don't try to carry all of this alone."
I nodded.
For the first time, I understood that asking for help didn't make me less of a soldier.
It made me human.
I began counseling the following week.
My therapist, Dr. Samuel Reed, asked me what hurt most.
I thought about it.
"The lies."
He nodded.
"Which ones?"
I looked down.
"That I was dead. That my wife belonged to someone else. That the home I worked for wasn't mine anymore."
My voice broke.
Then I whispered, "And that she kept telling me she loved me."
Dr. Reed gave me time.
Eventually, he asked, "Do you believe she loved you?"
I stared at the floor.
"I don't know."
He nodded.
"You may never know exactly what she felt. But you can evaluate how she acted."
I thought about that.
For years, I had used love to explain away uncomfortable things.
Nia's spending.
Her secrecy.
Her anger whenever I questioned her.
I wanted our marriage to work.
So I interpreted everything through that hope.
Now I was learning to separate what I wished were true from what the evidence showed.
Meanwhile, Jasmine helped me rebuild ordinary routines.
She came over every Sunday.
Mom visited twice a month.
We cooked dinner.
Watched football.
Argued about movies.
Sometimes I forgot about Nia for an entire evening.
Those moments felt precious.
One Sunday, Mom stood beside the mantel looking at Dad's flag.
She touched the glass case.
"He would have been proud of how you've handled this."
I shook my head.
"I almost lost control that morning."
Mom looked at me.
"But you didn't."
I swallowed.
"I wanted to hit somebody."
She nodded.
"Anger isn't the same as action."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"You protected yourself. You called for help. You let the legal process work."
I looked down.
For the first time, I felt proud of that.
I had walked into my home expecting joy and discovered betrayal.
But I hadn't hurt anyone.
I hadn't destroyed the house.
I hadn't made threats.
I had chosen to step away and ask for help.
That mattered.
The financial investigation continued.
Carla eventually agreed to provide records through her attorney.
The documents showed that she had received fees connected to several applications.
Some were ordinary professional charges.
Others were tied to transactions that never closed.
Investigators examined whether she knowingly submitted false information.
Rebecca cautioned me not to assume guilt until the evidence was evaluated.
I agreed.
Then she shared a major development.
The lender had determined that the signature on the refinancing application did not match verified records.
The application was formally withdrawn.
No loan had funded.
I exhaled so hard that Rebecca laughed softly.
"That's good news, Marcus."
I nodded.
"Very good news."
The house was no longer facing that immediate threat.
But the marital property issues remained.
Rebecca explained that the divorce process would determine the proper division of assets and obligations.
I accepted that.
I wasn't trying to punish Nia by taking everything.
I wanted a fair legal resolution.
I wanted my identity protected.
And I wanted to move forward.
A few weeks later, Daniel called.
He sounded different.
Calmer.
"Marcus, I have news."
I sat down.
"What happened?"
"My attorney recovered part of the money."
I smiled.
"That's great."
He laughed softly.
"Yeah. I didn't think I'd ever see it again."
I nodded.
Then he hesitated.
"Listen, I know this is strange, but thank you."
I frowned.
"For what?"
"For not treating me like the enemy."
I thought about the morning we met.
The bathrobes.
The roses.
The shock.
I had wanted to hate him.
But the truth had become more complicated.
"You didn't know," I said.
He nodded.
"Still. Thanks."
We ended the call.
For the first time, I felt that Daniel and I might eventually become friends.
Not because we wanted to remember Nia.
But because we had both survived the same deception.
That evening, Rebecca contacted me again.
The prosecutor's office had received evidence concerning the forged financial documents and the false death notification.
The relevant authorities were reviewing whether criminal charges were appropriate.
I listened.
Then Rebecca mentioned something else.
The bank had identified the destination of several suspicious transfers.
A significant portion went to an account controlled by Nia.
But another portion went to a company linked to Carla.
I nodded.
We expected that.
Then Rebecca continued.
"There's one more account."
My stomach tightened.
"Whose?"
She paused.
"An account opened using Daniel's personal information."
I went still.
"What?"
Rebecca explained that Daniel had not authorized the account.
He had already reported it.
The evidence suggested that the same person who misused my information may also have misused his.
I stared at the wall.
For months, Nia had been moving between two men.
Telling each a different story.
Using one man's home.
Using another man's savings.
And apparently using both identities to support financial transactions.
I took a slow breath.
Then I said something I hadn't been able to say before.
"Rebecca, I want the truth documented. All of it."
May you like
She answered quietly.
"That's exactly what we're working toward."
