Chapter 4
"Who is Simone Ellis?"
The question followed me all the way home.
I asked it in Rachel's office.
I whispered it while driving.
I repeated it to Tasha when I returned to her apartment.
But nobody had an answer.
Not yet.
Rachel advised me not to contact Simone directly until we understood her connection to the property.
I agreed.
The last thing I wanted was to confront a stranger who might know nothing about the forged documents.
Instead, we requested additional records.
Meanwhile, I began separating the parts of my life Daniel had quietly entangled.
I opened a new checking account at a different bank.
I redirected my salary.
I changed passwords.
I reviewed my credit reports.
I documented every account Daniel had been authorized to use.
Then I sat down with six years of statements.
The numbers were worse than I remembered.
There were restaurant charges nearly every weekend.
Hotel reservations for trips I hadn't attended.
Airline tickets purchased for Daniel's relatives.
Car repairs.
Designer purchases.
Cash transfers.
Some expenses were gifts I had knowingly provided.
Others were transactions I had never approved.
The distinction mattered.
Rachel explained that regretting a gift wasn't the same as proving financial misconduct.
I understood.
I wasn't trying to recover every dollar I had ever spent on someone I loved.
I wanted to identify the transactions made without my knowledge or permission.
As I reviewed the statements, patterns emerged.
Whenever Daniel received money from me, he transferred part of his own income elsewhere.
Often the destination was Bennett Family Investments.
Sometimes it was Patricia's account.
And several transfers went to a payment service connected to a phone number I didn't recognize.
I sent the records to Rachel.
She called later that afternoon.
"Good work, Nia."
I exhaled.
"Does this help?"
"Yes. It gives us a clearer timeline."
"What about Simone?"
"We found something."
My heart began racing.
Rachel continued.
"Simone Ellis is thirty-one. She works in marketing. Public records show she's been associated with the Sandy Springs address for approximately seven months."
I closed my eyes.
"Is she Daniel's girlfriend?"
"We don't know."
I appreciated Rachel's caution.
But my instincts were screaming.
Daniel had secretly acquired a house.
A woman lived there.
My name appeared on financial documents connected to the business that purchased it.
And Daniel had spent years insisting he couldn't afford ordinary household expenses.
I wanted answers.
That evening, Daniel appeared at Tasha's apartment.
I knew because the intercom rang shortly after seven.
Tasha answered.
A moment later, she came into the living room.
"Your husband is downstairs."
My stomach tightened.
"What does he want?"
"He says he needs to talk."
I stood.
Tasha touched my arm.
"You don't have to see him."
I knew that.
But part of me still wanted to hear him explain.
I called Rachel.
She advised me to keep the conversation brief, stay somewhere safe, and avoid discussing detailed legal matters.
I decided to speak through the building's intercom.
Daniel sounded irritated.
"Nia, let me up."
"No."
He sighed.
"Seriously?"
"What do you want?"
"To talk to my wife."
"You can speak from there."
A pause.
Then he said, "I miss you."
My chest tightened unexpectedly.
For six years, those words had meant comfort.
Now they sounded like another attempt to bypass the truth.
"Daniel, did you forge my signature?"
He exhaled.
"Can we not do this over an intercom?"
"Answer the question."
"I told you the loan was temporary."
"That isn't an answer."
His voice sharpened.
"You've become obsessed with money."
I stared at the wall.
"No. I've become interested in what happened to mine."
Silence.
Then he lowered his voice.
"Baby, I made some mistakes."
I closed my eyes.
"I know."
"But you can't throw away six years over this."
I thought about our wedding.
The apartment we first shared.
The nights I worked late while he promised his business would improve.
The dinners where he told me how fortunate he was to have me.
I had believed every word.
Then I remembered the forged signature.
The secret house.
The woman living inside it.
"Who is Simone Ellis?"
The silence was immediate.
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Then Daniel whispered, "Who told you about her?"
My stomach dropped.
"So you know her."
"Nia."
"Who is she?"
He didn't answer.
I felt tears gathering.
"Daniel, please don't make me ask again."
He exhaled slowly.
"She's someone I used to know."
"Does she live in the house you bought?"
A pause.
"Yes."
I gripped the edge of the counter.
"Why?"
"She needed somewhere to stay."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course she did."
"Nia, it's not what you think."
"Then explain it."
He hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I understood more than I wanted to.
"How long have you been involved with her?"
He raised his voice.
"You're jumping to conclusions."
"How long?"
Silence.
I closed my eyes.
My marriage had been built on promises.
But now, every promise seemed to hide another truth.
Finally, Daniel said, "We had a relationship before you and I got married."
I swallowed.
"And now?"
He didn't answer.
I ended the call.
Then I sank onto the couch and began crying.
Tasha sat beside me.
She didn't say she had warned me.
She didn't tell me to be strong.
She simply held my hand.
After a while, my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Nia, my name is Simone. I think we need to talk. Daniel has been lying to both of us.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
I didn't know he was married when he moved me into this house.
My tears stopped.
A photograph arrived.
It showed Daniel standing beside Simone in a beautifully decorated living room.
His arm was around her waist.
On her left hand was a diamond ring.
May you like
Underneath the picture, Simone had written:
He told me we were engaged.
