Chapter 6
I turned toward Marcus so quickly that my neck hurt.
"Your name?"
He stared at the phone.
"What?"
Camille repeated what she'd found.
The loan documents included a purported guarantee bearing Marcus's name.
His signature.
His financial information.
And references to his construction business.
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa hadn't simply targeted Grandma's house.
She had dragged my husband into it.
On our wedding day.
I looked at Marcus.
His face had gone completely still.
He asked Camille to send the relevant document securely.
Then he said, "I never authorized any guarantee."
Camille nodded, even though he couldn't see her.
"Then that needs to be documented immediately."
We returned to her office.
Marcus examined the paperwork.
He stared at the signature.
Then shook his head.
"That's not mine."
I felt tears rise.
"I'm so sorry."
He turned toward me.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because it's my family."
He took my hand.
"Nia, your sister made these choices."
I swallowed.
"But if I hadn't..."
He interrupted gently.
"No."
His voice was firm.
"You did not forge those signatures."
I began crying.
For years, I'd been trained to carry responsibility for Vanessa.
If she failed a class, I should have helped more.
If she lost a job, I should have introduced her to somebody.
If she spent money recklessly, I should have lent her some.
Now my sister had apparently used forged signatures to obtain a loan.
And my first instinct was still to blame myself.
Marcus pulled me into his arms.
"We'll handle this together."
I held him tightly.
"Okay."
Camille arranged for the lender to receive formal notice disputing the signatures.
She also advised Marcus to protect his business records and speak with his company's attorney.
We followed her instructions.
Then we went to the police to report the suspected forgery.
The officer listened carefully.
He asked for documents.
Dates.
Messages.
And details about who had access to our information.
I answered every question truthfully.
When he asked whether Vanessa had threatened me, I showed him the text from my wedding morning.
He read it.
Then asked if I had saved the original conversation.
I nodded.
He explained that investigators would assess the evidence and determine what further steps were appropriate.
I understood.
I didn't expect everything to be solved immediately.
But filing the report felt important.
For the first time, Vanessa's actions were being examined outside our family.
Outside Mom's excuses.
Outside the usual arguments.
That evening, my mother called.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
"Nia?"
Her voice sounded exhausted.
"What have you done?"
I closed my eyes.
"Hello, Mom."
"Vanessa says you went to the police."
I took a breath.
"Yes."
My mother gasped.
"Against your own sister?"
"Mom, someone used my signature without permission."
"She's pregnant!"
I stared at the wall.
"I know."
"Do you want your niece or nephew growing up without a mother?"
The guilt arrived exactly as she intended.
For one second, I felt myself shrinking.
Then I looked toward Marcus.
He was sitting beside me.
Watching quietly.
I took a breath.
"Mom, Vanessa's pregnancy doesn't make forgery acceptable."
My mother began crying.
"You're destroying this family."
I closed my eyes.
"No."
My voice steadied.
"I'm refusing to let our family keep hurting me."
She went quiet.
Then whispered, "Grandma Ruth would be ashamed."
That hurt.
More than I wanted to admit.
I felt tears burn my eyes.
Then I remembered Grandma's voice.
Don't let anybody bully you.
I swallowed.
"Grandma Ruth taught me to stand up for myself."
My mother said nothing.
"And I think she'd be proud that I'm finally doing it."
I ended the call.
Then I cried.
Marcus held me until my breathing slowed.
Over the following weeks, the lender investigated the disputed documents.
The police reviewed the messages and financial records.
Camille continued monitoring the property records.
Marcus's attorney worked to protect his business from any unauthorized obligations.
Meanwhile, Vanessa sent me dozens of messages.
Some angry.
Some apologetic.
Some blaming Elijah.
Some blaming Mom.
I stopped responding directly.
Camille advised us to preserve the messages.
So I did.
One afternoon, Elijah called me.
I hesitated before answering.
He sounded tired.
"Nia?"
"Hi, Elijah."
He took a breath.
"I wanted to apologize."
I sat down.
"For what?"
"For not realizing what Vanessa was doing at the wedding."
I swallowed.
"You didn't know."
He paused.
"She's staying with me again."
My stomach tightened.
"Okay."
He continued.
"We're trying to figure out what happens with the baby."
I nodded.
Then he said something unexpected.
"Nia, I found some documents."
I sat upright.
"What documents?"
"From the salon investment."
My heart began pounding.
"Where?"
"Vanessa left a folder in my car."
I gripped the phone.
"Elijah, you should give those to the investigators or your attorney."
"I know."
He hesitated.
"But there's something strange."
I looked toward Marcus.
"What?"
Elijah took a breath.
"The money didn't all go to the salon people."
My stomach tightened.
May you like
"Where did it go?"
He whispered, "Some of it went to your mother."
