Chapter 5
The man on the business card was named Thomas Reed.
I called him the following morning.
He answered with the cautious voice of someone who had already been lied to several times.
"Thomas Reed."
"My name is Marcus Brooks. You visited my home yesterday."
His tone changed.
"Mr. Brooks. Thank you for returning my call."
"Why are you looking for Diane Williams?"
"Before we continue, I need to confirm a few details."
I answered his questions.
Then he explained that he worked for a private financial investigation firm hired by a lender.
The lender had been reviewing a commercial loan associated with Diane's business.
"How much money are we talking about?" I asked.
"Approximately one hundred and eighty thousand dollars."
I nearly dropped my phone.
"One hundred and eighty thousand?"
"That's the outstanding amount under review."
"And what does that have to do with my house?"
Thomas paused.
"The file contains an application listing your residence as a proposed source of collateral."
I stood.
"That's impossible."
"Are you saying you didn't authorize that?"
"Absolutely not."
"Then you should contact legal counsel immediately."
"I already have."
"Good."
He explained that the lender was questioning the authenticity of several submitted documents.
The loan had not been secured against my house through any completed legal process, but the paperwork was serious enough to trigger an investigation.
"Did Diane receive the money?" I asked.
"That is part of what we're trying to establish."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Is my wife involved?"
"I can't provide conclusions about individuals before the investigation is complete."
"But her name is on the application?"
A long silence followed.
"Mr. Brooks, I recommend that your attorney request the relevant records directly."
I understood.
Thomas wasn't going to say more.
After ending the call, I stood by my office window for several minutes.
One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
A forged signature.
A suspicious property agreement.
And my mother almost forced out of her bedroom.
The pieces were beginning to fit together.
But the picture was uglier than I wanted to believe.
I called Samuel immediately.
He arranged an urgent meeting with Thomas and the lender's legal department.
Then I called Nia.
She didn't answer.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Finally, I sent a message.
"We need to talk today. I know about the business loan."
Her reply arrived less than a minute later.
"Please don't do anything until I see you."
That told me enough.
She knew.
At noon, my mother entered my office carrying a small wooden box.
"Marcus, I found something while unpacking."
Inside were several old photographs, my father's watch, and a stack of handwritten letters.
I smiled sadly.
"Dad's things."
She nodded.
"I kept them because I thought you might want them someday."
I picked up the watch.
The leather strap was worn.
The hands had stopped years ago.
I remembered my father wearing it while teaching me how to ride a bicycle.
Mom touched the box.
"Nia told me these things made the house look old-fashioned."
My smile disappeared.
"She said that?"
"She wanted me to donate them."
I closed the lid.
"Nothing in this box is being donated."
Mom looked relieved.
Then she said something that caught me completely off guard.
"Marcus, are you going to divorce Nia?"
I stared at her.
"I don't know."
She sat beside me.
"I don't want you to lose your marriage because of me."
"Mom, this isn't your responsibility."
"But I know you love her."
I looked down at my father's watch.
"I did."
The past tense surprised me.
Mom noticed.
She squeezed my hand.
"Love can survive mistakes, sweetheart. But it cannot survive dishonesty forever."
I nodded.
"And it shouldn't require someone else to suffer."
At four that afternoon, Nia arrived.
She stood outside the front door holding a handbag.
I let her into the living room.
My mother stayed upstairs.
Nia looked exhausted.
Her eyes were red.
She had changed out of the white pajamas she'd worn during our argument and into a simple gray dress.
"Where's Mom?" she asked.
"Upstairs."
"I meant my mom."
"At the hotel, I assume."
Nia nodded.
We sat opposite each other.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Finally, I asked, "What did your mother do?"
Nia covered her face.
"I didn't know it would go this far."
"What did she do?"
"She borrowed money."
"I know that."
"She said she had a business opportunity."
"What opportunity?"
"A boutique chain. Three storefronts."
I frowned.
"Three?"
Nia nodded miserably.
"She said she had investors."
"Did she?"
"No."
I waited.
"She needed money to keep the business going," Nia continued. "She asked me to help."
"That's why you transferred our savings?"
"Yes."
"And the loan?"
Nia's eyes filled with tears.
"She told me she only needed documents showing we had access to enough assets."
"What documents?"
"Bank statements. Tax returns. Property records."
My heart sank.
"You gave her my financial records?"
Nia whispered, "Yes."
"Without asking me?"
"Yes."
I looked away.
She began crying.
"I thought she was just trying to qualify."
"And when did you discover she was using my signature?"
Nia didn't answer.
"Nia."
"Three weeks ago."
I stared at her.
"Three weeks?"
"She showed me the application. I saw your name."
"Did you know it was forged?"
She began sobbing.
"Yes."
Something inside me collapsed.
For three weeks, my wife had known that someone was using my identity in a financial scheme.
And instead of warning me, she had decided my mother needed to move out.
"Why?" I whispered.
Nia shook her head.
"I was scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Mom said if the loan collapsed, everyone would come after us."
"Us?"
"She said we'd lose the house."
I stared at her.
"And you believed her?"
"I didn't know what to believe."
I stood.
"So you tried to transfer the house into joint ownership?"
Nia lowered her head.
"My mother said it would protect us."
"Protect us from what?"
"She said if something happened, it would be easier to negotiate."
I could barely recognize my own voice.
"You were going to make me sign away property rights because your mother told you to?"
Nia looked at me desperately.
"I never planned to hurt you."
"But you did."
She began crying harder.
I walked to the window.
Outside, rain had started falling.
I watched it strike the glass.
Then Nia said something that changed everything.
"Marcus, there's another reason Mom wanted Evelyn out."
I turned.
"What reason?"
Nia wiped her face.
"She thought your mother had something valuable."
I frowned.
"What?"
Nia looked toward the staircase.
"Your father's old documents."
My blood ran cold.
"What documents?"
"Mom said your father left behind something connected to a property."
I stared at her.
"My father died twenty-six years ago."
"I know."
May you like
Nia swallowed.
"But Diane believes your mother has been hiding an inheritance from you."
