Chapter 3
Four million dollars.
I kept repeating that number in my head as Tasha drove us across Atlanta.
My mother sat quietly in the back seat.
She had stopped crying.
Somehow, that frightened me more.
She kept staring out the window with both hands folded over her purse.
"Mom?" I whispered.
She turned toward me.
"Did you know anything about a loan?"
She shook her head.
"Your father promised me that property would always be ours."
"I know."
"He worked thirty years to protect it."
Her voice broke.
"I can't lose the last thing he left us."
I reached between the seats and held her hand.
"You won't."
I wanted to believe that promise.
But I had no idea what Marcus had done.
Rebecca Hayes was waiting when we arrived.
She was a sharp, silver-haired attorney who had worked with my father for almost twenty years.
She led us into a private conference room.
On the table sat a thick folder.
"Before we begin," she said, "I need you both to understand something."
I leaned forward.
"The documents we received may contain forged signatures."
My mother covered her mouth.
Rebecca opened the folder.
Inside was a loan application naming Willow Creek as collateral.
The proposed borrower was a company called Reed Hospitality Development.
Marcus's company.
I had helped him start it three years earlier.
He told me it would become a successful event management business.
I'd even contributed twenty thousand dollars from my savings.
Rebecca slid another page toward us.
"This is a proposed deed of trust. It has Evelyn's signature."
My mother stared at the paper.
"That isn't mine."
The signature looked similar.
But I recognized the difference immediately.
Mom always made a small loop beneath the final letter of her name.
This one didn't have it.
"I never signed this," she said firmly.
Rebecca nodded.
"Then we need to act quickly."
"What happens now?"
"The lender hasn't released the money. The title company contacted us because our firm appears on an old ownership record."
Relief washed over me.
But Rebecca wasn't smiling.
"There's more."
She turned to another document.
Marcus had listed me as a future equity partner in his development company.
Attached was a copy of our marriage license application.
I stared at it.
"Why would he need that?"
Rebecca looked directly at me.
"Because the lender was told that after your wedding, you would join Marcus in managing the property."
I felt sick.
"He planned to use our marriage?"
"That's what the paperwork suggests."
My mother began shaking.
"Marcus told me the family estate would be safer with his company handling the renovations."
Rebecca closed the folder.
"Nia, did you ever give Marcus permission to use your name in a business loan?"
"No."
"Did you sign a partnership agreement?"
"No."
"Then we have grounds to challenge the representations immediately."
I looked down at my wedding dress.
Only hours earlier, I had imagined dancing with Marcus beneath the lights of the ballroom.
Now I was sitting in an attorney's office discussing fraud.
I felt foolish.
Ashamed.
Angry.
Rebecca reached across the table.
"Listen carefully. Trusting someone isn't a legal authorization for them to steal from you."
My eyes filled.
"I should have noticed."
"Perhaps. But Marcus made these choices, not you."
My phone began ringing.
Marcus.
I declined.
He called again.
Then again.
A message appeared.
"Please don't involve lawyers. I can explain everything."
I showed Rebecca.
Her expression darkened.
"Save that message."
Another arrived.
"Whatever Rebecca told you, it's a misunderstanding."
I looked up.
"How does he know we're here?"
Tasha walked toward the window.
A familiar black SUV was parked across the street.
Marcus's car.
My stomach dropped.
"He's outside."
Rebecca immediately called building security.
But before anyone moved, my mother spoke.
"I want to know why he did this."
I turned.
"Mom, you don't have to face him."
"That young man called me family."
Her voice trembled.
"He ate at my table. He celebrated Christmas in my home. He stood beside me at your father's memorial."
She wiped her cheeks.
"And all that time, he was looking at what he could take."
I hugged her.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Tasha's phone buzzed.
She frowned at the screen.
"Nia, somebody sent me something."
It was a video.
The sender had used an anonymous email address.
The clip showed Vanessa standing inside my mother's living room.
Marcus was beside her.
The recording had no sound, but the timestamp showed 11:42 p.m. the previous night.
Vanessa was holding a folder.
She pointed toward a framed photograph of my father.
Then she laughed.
Marcus took the folder and placed it inside his briefcase.
I felt my hands turn numb.
"Where did this come from?"
Tasha shook her head.
"I don't know."
My mother stared at the screen.
"That camera..."
I looked at her.
"What camera?"
"Your father installed one in the living room years ago. The security company upgraded the system last summer."
I sat up.
"Do you still have access?"
"Of course."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Then we need the original recordings."
I grabbed my phone and opened the security application.
It took several attempts before I remembered Mom's login.
The app finally opened.
Living room.
Front entrance.
Driveway.
Kitchen.
I selected last night's recordings.
At 11:37 p.m., Marcus entered with Vanessa.
He used the spare key I'd given him.
They kissed.
Then Vanessa walked straight toward the study.
Marcus followed.
At 11:45, they returned carrying a brown document envelope.
I recognized it immediately.
My father's estate records.
Mom kept them inside a locked cabinet.
"How did he get into that cabinet?" I whispered.
Rebecca's face tightened.
"Do you know where the key is kept?"
Mom nodded slowly.
"In the little wooden box on my dresser."
I remembered Marcus helping Mom carry laundry into her bedroom the previous week.
He had been alone there for several minutes.
I felt betrayed all over again.
Then I noticed something else.
In the recording, Marcus opened the brown envelope.
Vanessa pointed at one document.
He nodded.
They kissed again.
Tasha looked disgusted.
"They were planning this together."
I checked the next clip.
At 12:06 a.m., Vanessa looked directly toward the camera.
Then she smiled.
And raised one finger to her lips.
As though she knew someone might eventually be watching.
My phone vibrated.
May you like
Another anonymous message appeared.
"You've seen the video. Now ask Vanessa what happened to your father's original will."
