Chapter 6
Denise filed for divorce three weeks later.
I received the papers at my office.
I was reviewing construction contracts when my assistant knocked.
“Mr. Carter, there's a delivery for you.”
I signed for the envelope.
Opened it.
And found the end of my marriage printed in black ink.
I stared at the first page.
Then I called Patricia.
“She filed.”
“I know,” Patricia said. “Her attorney sent us a copy.”
I leaned back.
“What happens now?”
“We respond through the proper process. We'll also address the disputed financial transactions separately.”
I nodded.
“She's still blaming Maya.”
Patricia sighed.
“Her filings contain allegations we intend to challenge with evidence.”
I closed my eyes.
“I don't want my daughter dragged through this.”
“I understand.”
“She's already been hurt enough.”
Patricia paused.
“Marcus, the best thing you can do is continue supporting Maya and avoid discussing the case with her in ways that make her feel responsible.”
I took a breath.
“You're right.”
After the call, I sat quietly.
I thought about my marriage to Denise.
When we first met, she seemed warm.
Confident.
Funny.
She brought flowers when Maya graduated from middle school.
She helped decorate the house for Christmas.
She told me she understood how important Nicole's memory was to us.
I had believed her.
I wanted to believe her.
After losing Nicole, I had spent years raising Maya alone.
I didn't regret those years.
They were some of the most meaningful of my life.
But I missed companionship.
I missed having someone ask about my day.
Someone to laugh with after dinner.
Someone to sit beside me when the house became quiet.
Denise seemed to offer that.
I never imagined she would use my loneliness to enter our lives and then make my daughter feel unwelcome.
The thought hurt.
But regret wouldn't repair anything.
I needed to move forward.
That evening, Maya and I cooked dinner together.
She had returned home after Denise moved out.
Angela still visited frequently, and Maya knew she could stay with her aunt whenever she wanted.
But Maya had chosen to come back.
Her room was almost finished.
The new desk stood near the window.
Her drawings covered the walls.
A framed photograph of Nicole sat beside her bed.
And for the first time in months, Maya seemed comfortable walking through the house.
We made spaghetti.
I burned the garlic bread.
Maya laughed so hard she nearly dropped the pasta.
“Dad, you're terrible at this.”
I grinned.
“Your mother used to say the same thing.”
Maya smiled.
“Really?”
“Every time I tried to cook.”
She leaned against the counter.
“Tell me about her.”
I looked at my daughter.
“What do you want to know?”
She hesitated.
“Was she funny?”
I laughed.
“Your mother was the funniest person I ever met.”
Maya smiled.
“Funnier than Aunt Angela?”
“Much funnier.”
She giggled.
I told her about the time Nicole convinced me that our refrigerator was haunted because it kept making strange noises.
I spent an entire afternoon trying to fix it.
Then I discovered she had hidden a small speaker behind it.
Maya laughed until tears filled her eyes.
“Mom did that?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
We ate dinner at the kitchen table.
Not the formal dining room.
Maya said she preferred the kitchen.
I didn't argue.
After dinner, she helped me clean.
Then she became quiet.
“Dad?”
I looked at her.
“Yes?”
“Do you think Denise ever loved me?”
The question stopped me.
I turned off the faucet.
I didn't want to lie.
But I didn't want to crush her either.
“I can't know exactly what Denise felt,” I said carefully.
Maya looked down.
“But I know she didn't treat you with the care and respect you deserved.”
Her eyes filled.
“Was it because I wasn't really hers?”
I felt my chest tighten.
I sat beside her.
“Baby, being family isn't an excuse to treat someone badly. And not sharing blood is never an excuse to hurt them.”
She wiped her eyes.
“Then why did she do it?”
I shook my head.
“I don't know all her reasons.”
Maya stared at her hands.
“Sometimes I think I should've been nicer.”
I pulled her close.
“You were a child trying to keep peace in your own home. You didn't cause this.”
She leaned against me.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you more than anything.”
A week later, Patricia called with news about Nicole's jewelry.
The dealer had returned the necklace, watch, and bracelet after ownership was established and the appropriate arrangements were completed.
I collected them personally.
When I saw the necklace, I almost cried.
The little gold heart was slightly scratched.
But the photograph of baby Maya was still inside.
I held it carefully.
For a moment, I could almost hear Nicole laughing.
I brought the necklace home.
Maya was sitting at her desk doing homework.
I knocked.
“Can I come in?”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
I held out the jewelry box.
Her eyes widened.
“Dad?”
“Open it.”
She lifted the lid.
Then she gasped.
“Mom's necklace!”
She covered her mouth.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Dad, you found it!”
I nodded.
She threw her arms around me.
“Thank you!”
I held her tightly.
“You never should've had to lose it.”
She shook her head.
“But it's back.”
I smiled.
“Yes, sweetheart. It's back.”
She asked me to help fasten it around her neck.
I did.
Then she looked in the mirror.
Her smile was the most beautiful thing I had seen in months.
That night, I slept better than I had since discovering the receipts.
But the next morning, Patricia called again.
Her voice was serious.
“Marcus, we have a development.”
I sat upright.
“What happened?”
“Denise's former business partner contacted us.”
I frowned.
“Business partner?”
“Yes. A woman named Lorraine Price.”
I had never heard the name.
Patricia continued.
“She says Denise used similar financial arrangements before your marriage.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of arrangements?”
“Loans, family contributions, and unauthorized transfers.”
I closed my eyes.
“Are you saying she's done this before?”
“Lorraine has documents she wants reviewed.”
I stared at the wall.
Then Patricia added something that made my blood run cold.
“She says Denise specifically looked for financially secure single fathers when she began dating again.”
May you like
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Because suddenly, I wondered whether my marriage had ever been what I believed it was.
