Chapter 4
I could barely hear Angela speaking.
My eyes remained fixed on Celeste Morgan's photograph.
Marcus had another woman.
That possibility hurt.
But it wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing this woman might have helped him steal my son's education money.
And possibly our home.
"Jordan," I said quietly, "tell us exactly what happened."
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
"I went to Marcus's office after he called me."
"Did he say why?"
"He said he wanted to help me become independent."
I waited.
"When I got there, Celeste was already sitting in his office."
Angela opened her notebook.
"Did Marcus introduce her?"
"Yeah. He said she was his business partner."
"And then?"
Jordan took a breath.
"Marcus gave me some papers. He said they were related to a financial independence program."
I felt anger rising.
"He told you that?"
Jordan nodded.
"He said if I signed them, he could help me get an apartment."
My stomach twisted.
An apartment.
Marcus had been planning to remove Jordan from my home long before their argument.
"What did Celeste say?" Angela asked.
Jordan stared at the floor.
"She said the plan would work as long as nobody asked unnecessary questions."
I closed my eyes.
"Did she mention me?"
Jordan hesitated.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"What did she say?"
He swallowed.
"She asked Marcus whether you'd agree."
I leaned forward.
"And?"
Jordan's voice became barely audible.
"Marcus said you wouldn't have a choice."
Silence filled Angela's office.
I stared at my son.
He looked devastated.
"Mom, I thought they were talking about helping me move out."
I reached across the desk.
"You didn't know."
Angela nodded.
"Jordan, your recollection may be important. I'll help you prepare a timeline, and investigators can determine whether those documents were used."
He nodded slowly.
Then Angela turned toward me.
"Nia, I recommend you file for divorce and seek immediate legal protections regarding the house and your finances."
I felt a sharp ache in my chest.
Divorce.
Again.
I'd promised myself I'd never go through another painful marriage ending.
When Marcus first entered my life, he'd seemed different.
He was confident.
Successful.
Protective.
He opened doors.
Brought flowers.
Remembered my favorite meals.
He told me I deserved a man who would take care of me.
And for a while, I believed him.
Now I wondered whether he'd been studying my vulnerabilities.
Learning where I kept my money.
Understanding how much I loved Jordan.
Waiting for the right moment to turn us against each other.
"I want the divorce," I said.
My voice surprised me.
It was steady.
Angela nodded.
"And I want my son's money back."
"We'll pursue the available remedies."
I took a breath.
"And I want Marcus away from us."
Angela looked at the police report.
"We'll discuss appropriate court orders based on his threats and conduct."
That afternoon, I went to the bank with Jordan.
The branch manager took us into a private office.
She reviewed the education account.
The original balance had been just over ninety-four thousand dollars.
Now less than five thousand remained.
I felt sick.
The manager explained that several transfers had been initiated through online access credentials linked to a device previously used for household financial management.
I knew whose device that was.
Marcus's.
I asked whether the bank could reverse the transactions.
She told me the fraud department would investigate.
The money couldn't simply be restored immediately.
But the records would be preserved.
When we left, Jordan looked exhausted.
"Mom, what if I never get to finish college?"
I stopped on the sidewalk.
"Look at me."
He did.
"You're going to finish."
"But the money—"
"We'll find a way."
He shook his head.
"You've already done so much."
I touched his cheek.
"Jordan, investing in your future was never a burden."
His eyes filled.
"I just don't want to disappoint you."
I nearly cried.
"You could never disappoint me by needing help."
He hugged me tightly.
For a moment, I felt the little boy who used to wrap his arms around my knees whenever he was scared.
But he wasn't little anymore.
He was twenty.
And someone had used his desire to become independent against him.
That evening, my sister, Tasha, came over.
She was forty-five, outspoken, and fiercely loyal.
The moment I explained everything, she slammed her handbag onto the kitchen counter.
"I knew that man was trouble."
I sighed.
"Tasha."
"No, Nia. I'm serious."
She pointed toward the living room.
"Remember Thanksgiving?"
I frowned.
"What about it?"
"Marcus told everybody Jordan needed to learn respect."
I nodded slowly.
"He said Jordan was ungrateful."
"And you defended Marcus because you thought he was trying to help."
I looked down.
She softened.
"Sweetheart, I'm not blaming you."
I wiped my eyes.
"I should've noticed."
"You noticed when he crossed the line. And you protected your son."
I nodded.
Then Tasha hugged me.
"We're going to get through this."
For the first time in days, I felt a little stronger.
But the peace didn't last.
At nine that night, my doorbell rang.
Jordan looked toward the entrance.
I checked the security camera.
A woman stood on the porch.
Tall.
Beautiful.
Wearing a fitted green coat.
Celeste Morgan.
My stomach dropped.
I told Jordan to stay inside.
Then I spoke through the doorbell speaker.
"What do you want?"
Celeste looked directly into the camera.
"Nia, we need to talk."
"Talk to my attorney."
She shook her head.
"Marcus has been lying to both of us."
I stared at the screen.
"What?"
She stepped closer.
"I know you think I'm helping him."
I felt anger rising.
"Are you?"
She looked over her shoulder.
Then whispered:
"He's planning to disappear with the money."
May you like
My heart stopped.
"And if you don't act before tomorrow morning, you'll never see it again."
