Chapter 2
I stood beside the front door, still holding Marcus's house key.
Jordan wouldn't meet my eyes.
For twenty years, I'd known almost every expression on my son's face.
I knew when he was hungry.
When he was exhausted.
When he was pretending not to be disappointed.
But the expression he wore that morning was different.
It looked like shame.
And fear.
"Jordan," I said gently, "whatever it is, you can tell me."
He rubbed both hands over his face.
"Mom, please don't be mad."
My stomach twisted.
"Just talk to me."
He looked toward the window.
Marcus's black SUV was pulling away from our driveway.
Only after it disappeared did Jordan finally speak.
"I didn't stop going to college because I was lazy."
I frowned.
"I never thought you were lazy."
He swallowed.
"I know. But Marcus did."
I sat on the edge of the sofa.
"Then why did you leave?"
Jordan's eyes filled.
"Because I couldn't afford to stay."
I stared at him.
"What are you talking about?"
I'd set aside money for his education years earlier.
Not millions.
But enough to cover tuition at the state university.
I'd worked overtime for that money.
Skipped vacations.
Delayed buying a new car.
Every sacrifice had been worth it.
Because Jordan deserved the opportunities I hadn't had.
"Baby, your college fund—"
"Is gone."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I blinked.
"What?"
Jordan sat across from me.
"Marcus told me the account was empty."
I shook my head.
"No."
"He showed me."
"When?"
"Last semester."
I felt cold.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Jordan's voice cracked.
"Because he said you already knew."
I stared at him.
"He told you that?"
Jordan nodded.
"He said you'd been struggling financially and didn't want me to worry."
My heart began pounding.
"Jordan, I've never been struggling to pay your tuition."
His face changed.
"What?"
"I've been making the same transfers into your education account for years."
He stared at me.
"Then where did the money go?"
I couldn't answer.
But an awful possibility was taking shape.
Marcus worked in financial consulting.
When we married, he'd offered to help organize our accounts.
I had refused to combine our major assets.
But I'd allowed him to help manage some household payments.
And last year, when I was recovering from surgery, he'd handled more paperwork than usual.
Including correspondence about Jordan's tuition.
I pressed a hand against my chest.
"How much did he say was missing?"
Jordan swallowed.
"Almost ninety thousand dollars."
My vision blurred.
Ninety thousand.
Money I'd spent over a decade saving.
"Mom?"
I stood.
"Where are the documents he showed you?"
Jordan hesitated.
"I kept copies."
He hurried upstairs.
I sat motionless.
For three years, Marcus had made small comments about Jordan.
He's spoiled.
He's too dependent on you.
You're raising a boy who'll never become a man.
I'd defended my son.
But I'd also told myself Marcus was simply old-fashioned.
Strict.
Concerned.
Now I wondered whether he'd been trying to make Jordan look irresponsible so I wouldn't question the missing money.
Jordan returned carrying a blue folder.
He handed me several printed statements.
I examined them.
Transfers.
Withdrawals.
Account closures.
Some transactions were unfamiliar.
Others carried references to a company I'd never heard of.
Hawthorne Strategic Partners.
I looked up.
"What is this company?"
Jordan shook his head.
"I don't know."
I took out my phone and searched my banking records.
The original education account was still listed.
But its balance had dropped dramatically months earlier.
Several large transfers had been processed.
My breathing became shallow.
"Mom, are you okay?"
I looked at my son.
He was watching me with the same worried expression he'd worn when I was recovering from surgery.
The child I'd spent my life protecting had been carrying this secret alone.
"Why didn't you ask me directly?" I whispered.
He looked down.
"Marcus said you'd feel ashamed."
I closed my eyes.
"He said if I loved you, I wouldn't make you explain why you couldn't afford my education."
A tear slid down his cheek.
"So I withdrew."
I reached for his hand.
"Oh, Jordan."
He began crying.
"I thought I was helping."
I pulled him into my arms.
"You were never supposed to carry that burden."
He clung to me.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
I held him tighter.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
He pulled back.
"But I lied about why I left school."
"You were trying to protect me from something you believed was true."
I wiped his tears.
"Now we're going to find out what really happened."
That afternoon, I called my attorney, Angela Brooks.
She'd helped me purchase the house years earlier.
When I explained the situation, she asked me to send the records immediately.
Thirty minutes later, she called back.
"Nia, do not contact Marcus about these transfers yet."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because I see several transactions that require investigation."
I looked toward Jordan.
"Did he steal my son's college fund?"
"I can't conclude that from statements alone. But these records are serious."
Angela paused.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"Have you recently signed documents authorizing your husband to refinance your home?"
I sat upright.
"No."
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely."
She went quiet.
Then she said:
"Nia, I received a notice yesterday involving an application for a large home-equity loan."
My blood ran cold.
"How large?"
"Four hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I couldn't breathe.
Angela continued.
"The application lists you and Marcus."
I stared at the wall.
"That's impossible."
"Then we need to act quickly."
I ended the call and looked at Jordan.
He was standing beside the kitchen island.
His face was pale.
"Mom?"
I could barely speak.
"Marcus may have been trying to borrow money against our house."
Jordan's hands curled into fists.
"That house isn't his."
"I know."
"Then why would he do that?"
I looked toward the front door.
The door through which I'd just thrown my husband out.
"I don't know."
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Marcus.
You made a big mistake choosing Jordan.
I stared at it.
May you like
Another message appeared.
By Monday, you'll understand who really owns that house.
