Chapter 2
“That isn't my signature.”
My voice came out so quietly that Marcus leaned closer to hear me.
I stared at the document in my hands.
There was my name.
Nia Bennett.
Written in a style that looked almost identical to my handwriting.
But something was wrong.
The capital N curled too sharply.
The final letter leaned in the opposite direction.
I knew how I signed my own name.
And I had never signed this document.
Marcus nodded.
“I know.”
Vanessa suddenly stood.
“Nia, don't let him manipulate you.”
I looked up.
“Manipulate me?”
She pointed at the paper.
“You don't understand what you're reading.”
“Then explain it.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Marcus spoke calmly.
“It's an authorization transferring ownership of a company asset.”
I frowned.
“What asset?”
He looked at me.
“The warehouse property.”
My stomach dropped.
The warehouse.
Three years earlier, Marcus and I had purchased an old industrial building on the outskirts of Atlanta.
It wasn't beautiful.
The roof leaked.
Half the windows were broken.
But we saw potential.
We worked weekends cleaning it.
I painted walls.
Marcus repaired the loading docks.
Eventually, it became the headquarters of Bennett Construction.
And when the company struggled, that property was the one thing we refused to sell.
I stared at the paper.
“Someone tried to transfer our warehouse?”
Marcus nodded.
“To a company called Hale Development Holdings.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Richard Hale.
The same man who owed Marcus nearly two million dollars.
My hands went cold.
“How?”
“By using documents bearing your forged signature.”
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“You have no proof.”
Marcus turned toward her.
“Actually, I do.”
He took out his phone.
My heart began pounding.
“Marcus, what's happening?”
He looked at me.
“Richard's company didn't collapse the way we were told.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“The company transferred assets to a new business controlled through several other entities.”
I shook my head.
“I don't understand.”
Marcus took my hand.
“Richard still had money. He was moving it around while telling creditors he couldn't pay.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“And she helped him?”
Marcus nodded.
“We believe she helped arrange the paperwork.”
Vanessa slammed her palm against the table.
“Stop saying that!”
Several guests turned.
A waiter approached cautiously.
“Is everything all right?”
Marcus looked at him.
“We're fine. Thank you.”
Vanessa grabbed her purse.
“I'm leaving.”
I stood.
“No.”
She froze.
For years, I had avoided confrontation.
When Vanessa made cruel comments, I laughed them off.
When she criticized my marriage, I changed the subject.
When she sent pictures of Marcus, I cried alone instead of demanding answers.
But something inside me had changed.
“You invited me here.”
Vanessa stared.
“You wanted to tell me the truth.”
Her expression tightened.
“So tell it.”
She looked toward Marcus.
He remained silent.
I stepped closer.
“Did you forge my signature?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“No.”
“Did you help Richard?”
“No.”
“Then why are you in that photograph?”
She swallowed.
“We were discussing business.”
I almost laughed.
“What business?”
She looked away.
Marcus placed another document on the table.
A payment record.
Vanessa's name appeared beside several transfers.
I stared at the amounts.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Forty thousand.
Seventy-five thousand.
My stomach twisted.
“Vanessa…”
She grabbed the paper.
Marcus immediately retrieved it.
“These are copies.”
Vanessa looked frightened.
He continued.
“The originals are with our attorney.”
I felt dizzy.
“For how long?”
Marcus took a slow breath.
“Almost eight months.”
Eight months.
Our financial crisis had begun six months earlier.
That meant the scheme had started before Richard stopped paying Marcus.
Before I sold my car.
Before I emptied my savings.
My throat tightened.
“You knew we were struggling.”
Vanessa looked at me.
I continued.
“You watched me sell my car.”
She said nothing.
“You helped me pack my mother's jewelry when I thought I might need to sell that too.”
Vanessa's face changed.
I stared at her.
“You hugged me while I cried.”
Her eyes filled.
“Nia—”
“And you knew?”
She looked away.
That was answer enough.
I sank into my chair.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Marcus knelt beside me.
“Baby.”
I shook my head.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
His expression filled with pain.
“I didn't know at first.”
I looked at him.
“When did you find out?”
“Three weeks ago.”
My chest tightened.
“Three weeks?”
He nodded.
“I discovered irregularities in the warehouse documents after our attorney reviewed a notice from the property records office.”
I stared.
“And you kept meeting Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
My voice rose.
“Why?”
“Because we were trying to determine how much she knew.”
I pulled my hand away.
“You could have told me.”
Marcus looked ashamed.
“I should have.”
I swallowed.
“You let me think you were having an affair.”
His face tightened.
“I never wanted that.”
“But you let it happen.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
The admission hurt.
Because I loved Marcus.
But love didn't erase what his silence had done.
For months, I had questioned my worth.
I had compared myself to Vanessa.
I had wondered whether financial hardship had made me less attractive.
Less interesting.
Less deserving of love.
And Marcus had known something important while I sat alone with those fears.
I stood.
“I need air.”
Marcus immediately moved aside.
“I understand.”
Vanessa watched me.
For the first time, she looked uncertain.
I walked toward the restaurant entrance.
The cool evening air hit my face.
I leaned against the wall.
Then I cried.
Not because of the warehouse.
Not because of the money.
Because two people I trusted had allowed me to live inside a lie.
One had betrayed me deliberately.
The other had hidden the truth.
And I didn't know which hurt more.
A few minutes later, Marcus stepped outside.
He stopped several feet away.
“Nia?”
I wiped my face.
“Don't come closer yet.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
I looked at him.
“Were you ever involved with her?”
His answer came immediately.
“No.”
“Not even once?”
“Never.”
I wanted to believe him.
But trust wasn't something I could switch back on.
Marcus took a breath.
“I have messages showing what Vanessa was trying to do.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“She wanted me to leave you.”
My heart tightened.
“Why?”
“Because she believed our marriage was the only thing preventing the warehouse transfer from going through.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“Your ownership interest required your approval. She thought if we separated, she could pressure you into signing a settlement.”
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa hadn't merely wanted my husband.
She wanted my signature.
And she had spent months making me miserable enough to give it.
I looked toward the restaurant windows.
Vanessa was speaking angrily into her phone.
Then Marcus said something that made me turn.
“There's something else in the envelope.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He hesitated.
“A letter from your mother.”
My breath caught.
My mother had died four years earlier.
I had never heard of such a letter.
Marcus continued.
“She left it with the attorney who helped us buy the warehouse.”
I stopped breathing.
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because part of the money used to purchase that property came from a fund she created for you.”
I stared at him.
My mother had given me twenty thousand dollars toward the purchase.
Or so I believed.
Marcus took a slow breath.
“Nia, she didn't give you twenty thousand.”
I felt the pavement shift beneath my feet.
“How much?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“Two hundred thousand.”
I covered my mouth.
And suddenly, the warehouse wasn't just a business property.
May you like
It was part of my mother's legacy.
A legacy someone had been trying to steal.
