Chapter 4
"My father's will?"
The words barely left my mouth.
Mom leaned toward my phone.
"What did they say?"
I showed her the message.
All the color drained from her face.
Rebecca immediately asked a question.
"Evelyn, where is the original estate file?"
"In my study cabinet."
"Have you checked it recently?"
Mom shook her head.
"Not since last Christmas."
I stood.
"We need to go home."
Rebecca raised her hand.
"Not without securing the property first."
She called the lender, the title company, and a colleague who handled real estate disputes.
Within thirty minutes, she had formally notified the lender that the purported signatures were disputed and that neither Mom nor I had authorized the transaction.
She also arranged for an independent locksmith to meet us.
I wanted everything done immediately.
But Rebecca warned me not to rush.
"We need evidence that can survive scrutiny," she said.
"Not just proof that makes us angry."
I looked at the scissors in the photograph Tasha had taken of Vanessa's ruined hairstyle.
For the first time, I felt something close to regret.
Not because Vanessa deserved sympathy.
But because I had let her push me into doing something that could be used against me.
"I cut her hair," I admitted.
Rebecca looked at me.
"Explain."
I told her everything.
Every word.
Every insult.
Every moment.
When I finished, she nodded slowly.
"You may have legal exposure for that. Don't contact Vanessa, threaten her, or try to settle anything privately. Preserve everything and let me help you find the right attorney."
I lowered my head.
"I know."
Mom reached for my hand.
"You were defending me."
"I was angry, Mom."
"You had every reason to be."
"But I don't want to become someone who hurts people because I'm hurting."
She hugged me.
"Then don't. That's how we move forward."
We reached Willow Creek shortly after four.
The property looked peaceful.
White fences bordered the long driveway.
Magnolia trees swayed beside the old house.
For a moment, I remembered being eight years old, running barefoot across the lawn while my father chased me.
I had never imagined this place could become the center of a crime.
The locksmith changed every exterior lock.
Rebecca asked me to download the security footage onto two separate drives.
Then we entered the study.
Mom walked to the cabinet.
The wooden door was closed.
But the small brass lock had scratches around it.
My heart sank.
The original estate envelope was gone.
"Marcus," I whispered.
Rebecca photographed the cabinet.
She told us not to disturb anything else until the missing items were documented.
Mom sat in Dad's leather chair.
She looked so small.
"I thought I knew him," she said.
I knelt beside her.
"So did I."
Then a car pulled into the driveway.
Marcus.
Tasha saw him through the window.
"He's here."
Rebecca stepped toward the front door.
"Stay inside."
Marcus walked up the porch steps.
He still wore his tuxedo trousers, but his jacket and bow tie were gone.
He looked exhausted.
For one brief, foolish second, I remembered loving him.
Then he began knocking.
"Nia! I know you're inside!"
Rebecca opened the door without inviting him in.
"Mr. Reed, this property is privately owned. You need to leave."
Marcus stared at her.
"This is between me and my fiancée."
"Former fiancée," I called from behind her.
He spotted me.
"Nia, please."
I stepped into the hallway.
"What did you do with my father's will?"
He went still.
"What?"
"You heard me."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I held up my phone.
"I watched you take the estate documents."
He looked frightened.
Then his expression changed.
"Vanessa made me do it."
I almost laughed.
"She made you?"
"She threatened to tell you about us."
"So you stole from my mother?"
Marcus rubbed his face.
"You don't understand. My business was failing."
"Then you should have told me."
"I couldn't."
"Why?"
He looked away.
"Because you'd think I was a failure."
I stared at him.
"I would rather marry a broke man who tells the truth than a rich man who steals from my mother."
His eyes filled.
"Nia, I love you."
"No. You loved what my family could give you."
He stepped forward.
Rebecca blocked him.
"That's enough."
Marcus's face hardened.
"You think you're better than me because your father left you land?"
My chest tightened.
"Leave."
"Without me, that property would still be sitting there doing nothing."
"My father built his life there."
"And I was going to turn it into something valuable!"
The words exploded out of him.
My mother appeared behind me.
"It was already valuable."
Marcus froze.
She walked forward slowly.
"That land holds my husband's memory. My daughter's childhood. Every sacrifice our family made."
Her voice became stronger.
"You only saw a price tag."
He lowered his head.
For the first time, I saw shame on his face.
But it didn't last.
"You're both making a mistake," he muttered.
Then he walked away.
Rebecca watched until his car disappeared.
"That confrontation needs to be written down while it's fresh."
I nodded.
I was still shaking when my phone rang.
An unfamiliar Atlanta number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?"
A woman whispered.
"Is this Nia Carter?"
"Yes."
"My name is Denise. I work at Vanessa's salon."
My heart began racing.
"I know who you are."
"Please don't hang up."
I looked at Tasha.
Denise continued.
"I've been trying to warn you for weeks."
"About what?"
"Vanessa and Marcus."
"I know about the affair."
Silence.
Then Denise spoke again.
"It's worse than that."
I tightened my grip on the phone.
"How much worse?"
Denise began crying.
"Your mother wasn't the first woman Vanessa hurt."
I felt cold.
"What are you saying?"
"Two years ago, Vanessa did something similar to another bride's mother. But this time, Marcus told her exactly who to humiliate."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
May you like
Denise's answer made my blood run cold.
"Because he needed you angry enough to cancel the wedding before anyone discovered the loan."
