Chapter 4
I felt my wedding dress suddenly become too tight.
"What paperwork?"
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Ask Mom."
I turned toward Diane.
My mother looked as though she wanted the floor to swallow her.
"Mom?"
She shook her head.
"Vanessa, that's enough."
I stepped closer.
"What did you sign?"
Mom tried walking past me.
Marcus gently moved between her and the door.
"We need an answer."
Diane looked furious.
"You cannot hold me hostage!"
He stepped aside immediately.
"You're free to leave. But Nia has a right to ask about property she owns."
Mom stopped.
I could see the panic in her eyes.
My stomach tightened.
"Did you sign something concerning Grandma's house?"
She whispered, "I thought I was helping."
I closed my eyes.
Those words.
Every terrible decision in our family began with those words.
I thought I was helping.
Helping Vanessa.
Helping family.
Helping everyone except the person whose rights were being ignored.
"What did you sign?"
Mom began crying.
"A document from the investment people."
I stared.
"What document?"
"Something about using the house as security."
My heart nearly stopped.
"Security for what?"
Vanessa looked away.
My mother whispered, "A loan."
I grabbed the back of a chair.
Marcus caught my arm.
"Nia, sit down."
I shook my head.
"No."
I looked at Mom.
"Grandma's house is in my name."
She nodded.
"Then how could you use it for a loan?"
"I thought..."
Her voice disappeared.
I stared at her.
"Did you forge my signature?"
Mom began shaking her head.
"No. I didn't sign your name."
I turned toward Vanessa.
She froze.
"Vanessa?"
She started crying.
"I didn't know what else to do."
My stomach dropped.
"You forged my signature?"
She covered her face.
I felt my knees weaken.
Marcus guided me into a chair.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I thought about Grandma's house.
The blue shutters.
The rosebush beside the porch.
The little kitchen where she taught me to make peach cobbler.
She'd bought that house with Grandpa when they were newly married.
She raised my mother there.
Then Vanessa and me.
Every summer, we slept in the guest bedroom beneath the yellow quilt.
Every Christmas, Grandma hung handmade ornaments from the same little tree.
And now my sister had apparently used my name to put it at risk.
I stared at Vanessa.
"How much?"
She didn't answer.
"How much money did you borrow?"
Mom wiped her eyes.
"Sixty thousand."
I felt sick.
Sixty thousand dollars.
Marcus stood beside me.
His voice was controlled.
"Who is the lender?"
My mother shook her head.
"I don't remember."
Vanessa whispered, "Pinecrest Capital."
Marcus took out his phone.
"Do you have copies of the documents?"
Vanessa looked frightened.
"Some."
"Send them to Nia's attorney."
She stared.
"Attorney?"
I looked up.
"Yes, Vanessa. An attorney."
My sister began sobbing.
"Nia, please don't do that."
I felt tears rise.
"Why?"
"Because it could ruin my life!"
I stared at her.
"You forged my signature."
"I was desperate!"
"You put Grandma's house at risk."
"I was going to pay it back!"
I shook my head.
"With what money?"
She had no answer.
My mother moved toward me.
"Nia, she's pregnant."
I looked at her.
Then slowly stood.
"Mom, her pregnancy doesn't erase what she did."
Diane's face crumpled.
I continued.
"And you don't get to use an unborn baby to make me accept fraud."
The room became silent.
Marcus reached for my hand.
"We're leaving."
I looked at him.
He was right.
I was still at my wedding.
I had guests.
A husband.
A beautiful evening that deserved more than my family's chaos.
I turned toward Vanessa.
"Do not contact the lender pretending to be me."
She nodded quickly.
"Do not sign anything else."
She nodded again.
"And send every document to my attorney tomorrow."
Her eyes filled.
"What happens if I don't?"
I looked directly at her.
"Then I will find another way to get the records."
I turned toward my mother.
"Please don't contact me tonight."
She looked devastated.
"Nia..."
"Not tonight."
Marcus guided me toward the door.
Outside, Tasha was waiting.
The moment she saw my face, she rushed forward.
"What happened?"
I tried speaking.
Nothing came out.
Then I began crying.
She wrapped her arms around me.
Marcus quietly explained that we needed a few minutes.
Camille, our wedding coordinator, approached.
She offered to help us leave discreetly.
I looked toward the ballroom.
Music floated through the open doorway.
Guests were dancing.
The flowers were beautiful.
Everything Marcus and I had planned still existed.
I wiped my cheeks.
Then looked at my husband.
"Can we go back?"
He stared.
"Are you sure?"
I nodded.
"I don't want Vanessa to take the rest of our wedding too."
Marcus smiled sadly.
He gently wiped a tear from my face.
"Then let's finish our first dance."
My heart broke and healed a little at the same time.
We returned to the ballroom.
Camille spoke with the band.
The lights softened.
Our song began again.
Marcus took my hand.
And for several minutes, I forgot about the forged documents.
The threats.
The money.
I rested my head against his chest.
He whispered, "I'm here."
I closed my eyes.
"I know."
We danced.
Guests applauded.
Tasha cried.
And for a brief moment, the evening felt like ours again.
But when the reception ended, Marcus showed me something on his phone.
He'd received an email from our attorney's office after forwarding the information.
The attorney had checked publicly available property records.
The house was still registered in my name.
But another document had recently been submitted.
May you like
A notice connected to a proposed security interest.
And the signature attached to the application looked exactly like mine.
