Chapter 7
The photograph of Celeste's house lay on Angela's desk.
It was beautiful.
A large modern home with stone walls, black-framed windows, and a swimming pool.
Worth nearly seven hundred thousand dollars.
I stared at it.
My son's college money had helped fund this.
Money I'd saved over years of working late shifts.
Money David would have wanted Jordan to use for his future.
And Marcus had treated it like an investment in another life.
A life that didn't include me.
"Is Celeste living there?" I asked.
Angela nodded.
"She purchased it several months ago."
I felt sick.
"Does she know where the money came from?"
"That's under investigation. She's cooperating with the authorities."
I looked down.
For a moment, I wanted to hate her more than anything.
But then I remembered the woman standing on my porch.
Frightened.
Desperate.
Warning me that Marcus was planning to disappear.
"Can the property be used to repay what was taken?"
"Potentially. Investigators are tracing the funds, and civil recovery options are being evaluated."
I nodded.
"What about the house loan?"
"The lender has canceled the application after completing its fraud review."
I closed my eyes.
Relief washed through me.
My home was safe from that transaction.
For weeks, I'd feared losing the place where I'd raised my son.
The home where David's photographs still hung on the walls.
The place where Jordan had learned to ride a bicycle in the driveway.
Now, at least that immediate threat was over.
Angela continued.
"We're also moving forward with your divorce."
I looked up.
"Good."
She studied me.
"How are you holding up?"
I thought about lying.
Saying I was fine.
Strong.
Unbothered.
But I was tired of pretending.
"I'm angry."
She nodded.
"That's understandable."
"And embarrassed."
"Nia—"
"I trusted him."
My voice broke.
"I let him into my house. Into my son's life."
Angela leaned forward.
"Someone else's dishonesty is not proof that you were foolish."
I wiped my eyes.
"I just wish I'd seen it sooner."
"You saw enough to stop him when it mattered."
I took a deep breath.
She was right.
I couldn't change the past.
But I could decide what happened next.
That afternoon, I drove home and found Jordan in the garage.
He was working on David's old motorcycle.
It hadn't run in years.
My late husband had loved that bike.
After he died, I couldn't bring myself to sell it.
Jordan looked up when I entered.
"Hey, Mom."
I smiled.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to get this thing running."
I laughed.
"Good luck."
He wiped grease from his hands.
"Thanks for the encouragement."
I stepped closer.
"Your dad would love this."
Jordan's expression softened.
"Yeah?"
"Absolutely."
He looked at the motorcycle.
"I don't remember everything about him anymore."
My heart squeezed.
"That's normal, baby."
He swallowed.
"Sometimes I feel guilty."
"Why?"
"Because I can't remember his voice perfectly."
I put my arm around his shoulders.
"Jordan, losing details doesn't mean losing love."
He nodded.
Then he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out an old photograph.
David standing beside the motorcycle.
Jordan, age seven, sitting on the seat.
Both smiling.
"I found this in a toolbox."
I took the photograph.
Tears filled my eyes.
David had been thirty-six in the picture.
Healthy.
Happy.
Alive.
Jordan looked at me.
"Do you think he'd be disappointed in me?"
I stared.
"For what?"
"For dropping out."
I shook my head.
"No."
"For letting Marcus fool me."
"No."
"For not having my life figured out?"
I cupped his face.
"Jordan, your father would be proud of the man you're becoming."
His eyes filled.
"He'd be proud that you stood up for yourself."
I hugged him.
"And he'd be proud that you still care about people after everything you've been through."
Jordan held me tightly.
Then he whispered:
"I miss him."
I closed my eyes.
"Me too."
We stood beside the motorcycle for a long time.
Later that evening, Tasha invited us to dinner.
Her husband, Andre, had made barbecue ribs.
Their two daughters were home from college.
For the first time in months, Jordan relaxed around other young adults.
He laughed.
Talked about classes.
Asked questions about internships.
I watched him from across the table.
He looked like himself again.
Then Tasha leaned toward me.
"See?"
I smiled.
"See what?"
"Your boy is coming back."
My throat tightened.
I nodded.
"He is."
Tasha squeezed my hand.
"And so are you."
I looked down.
Maybe she was right.
For three years, I'd adjusted myself around Marcus.
Avoided arguments.
Explained away rude comments.
Told Jordan to be patient.
Now I was beginning to understand how much of myself I'd surrendered.
Not all at once.
Little by little.
Until I'd almost forgotten what peace felt like.
That night, when we returned home, Jordan stopped beside the front door.
"Mom?"
"Yes?"
"Can I ask you something weird?"
I smiled.
"Go ahead."
"Why did you choose me so fast?"
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"When Marcus said it was him or me."
I looked at my son.
He seemed embarrassed.
"I thought you'd need time to decide."
My heart broke.
I stepped closer.
"Jordan, there was nothing to decide."
He stared.
"You are my son."
His eyes filled.
"And Marcus was asking me to abandon you."
I took his hands.
"That was never going to happen."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
"I just needed to hear it."
I pulled him into my arms.
"You can ask me a thousand times."
He hugged me tightly.
Then he whispered:
"Thanks for choosing me, Mom."
I kissed his forehead.
"I'll always choose your safety."
The next morning, I received a message from Angela.
A settlement proposal had arrived.
Marcus's attorney was offering to return a portion of the missing money in exchange for resolving certain civil claims.
I stared at the document.
Then I called Angela.
"How much?"
She told me.
Forty thousand dollars.
Less than half of what was missing.
I felt anger rise.
"That's insulting."
Angela agreed it was a starting proposal, not a fair resolution.
I took a breath.
"Then we're not accepting it."
"Understood."
I looked toward the garage, where Jordan was working on the motorcycle again.
"And Angela?"
"Yes?"
"I want every dollar we can legally recover."
She paused.
May you like
Then said:
"We'll pursue it."
