Chapter 4
"What child?"
My voice was barely audible.
Daniel remained silent.
I gripped the phone.
"Daniel, what child are you talking about?"
He took a shaky breath.
"Not over the phone."
I felt anger rise.
"You don't get to call me after helping destroy my wedding and then refuse to answer questions."
"I know."
"Then tell me."
He hesitated.
"There's a little boy."
My chest tightened.
"How old?"
"Four."
I stared at the wall.
Four years old.
Nia had told me she had never been married.
She said she had no children.
She claimed she wanted to become a mother more than anything.
Now Daniel was telling me there was a four-year-old boy.
"Whose son?"
Daniel's voice broke.
"Mine."
I closed my eyes.
Then I heard him whisper, "And Nia's."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Nia had a child.
A real child.
With the man she introduced as her cousin.
My stomach twisted.
"You told me you were related."
Daniel sighed.
"That was her idea."
I felt sick.
"Why?"
"She said you wouldn't trust me if you knew we'd been together."
I leaned against the conference table.
"Together when?"
Daniel hesitated.
"For years."
My heart pounded.
"Are you still together?"
He didn't answer.
I closed my eyes.
"Daniel."
His voice cracked.
"Sometimes."
I felt as though someone had punched me.
My father stood.
"Marcus?"
I raised my hand.
I couldn't speak.
Daniel continued.
"I know what we did was wrong."
I laughed bitterly.
"Wrong?"
My voice shook.
"You helped her convince me I was going to become a father."
He began crying.
"I know."
"She wore a fake pregnancy belly."
"I know."
"You let me buy a nursery."
Silence.
I felt tears running down my face.
"Where is your son?"
Daniel hesitated.
"With Nia's mother."
I frowned.
"Nia told me her mother died."
Daniel went silent.
I stared at the phone.
"Daniel?"
He swallowed.
"She's alive."
My knees weakened.
Another lie.
Another family member hidden from me.
I looked toward Evelyn.
She was crying quietly.
I suddenly understood why she had said the fake pregnancy was only the beginning.
My entire relationship had been built around people and stories that didn't exist the way Nia described them.
I took a breath.
"What's the boy's name?"
Daniel whispered, "Noah."
I closed my eyes.
Noah.
A real child.
Four years old.
Somewhere, he was living with a grandmother while his parents pretended to build a different family.
My anger changed.
It became something heavier.
Sadness.
Not only for myself.
For that little boy.
"Does Noah know who his parents are?"
Daniel began crying.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"Then why isn't he with them?"
He hesitated.
"Nia said she needed time to build a better life."
I stared at the wall.
A better life.
With my money.
My home.
My trust.
I felt sick.
Rochelle moved closer.
"Marcus, end the call and let us arrange any further communication through counsel."
I nodded.
"Daniel, preserve whatever evidence you have. If you're concerned about threats, contact the authorities and your attorney."
He agreed.
Then I ended the call.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
My father placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Son."
I shook my head.
"I don't understand."
He looked devastated.
"I know."
I sat down.
Then I began crying.
For months, I had imagined holding my newborn baby.
I had decorated a nursery.
Bought tiny clothes.
Read parenting books.
I had even started writing letters to my future child.
And now I was learning the pregnancy was fake.
But there was a real little boy whose parents had apparently used their relationship with me to hide their own choices.
Evelyn reached for my hand.
"Marcus, listen to me."
I looked up.
Her eyes were wet.
"You did not cause this."
I swallowed.
"I feel stupid."
She shook her head.
"You trusted someone you loved."
I looked away.
"That doesn't make you stupid."
I wanted to believe her.
But the shame was overwhelming.
Later that evening, Rochelle arranged for a private investigator to verify the information Daniel provided.
I insisted that Noah's privacy be protected.
Whatever his parents had done, the child was innocent.
I didn't want strangers searching for him.
I didn't want reporters near him.
I didn't want his life turned into another spectacle.
Then I went home.
The house felt unbearable.
Pink and blue baby clothes lay folded in the nursery.
A white crib stood beneath a painted moon.
Nia had chosen the wallpaper.
I had assembled the furniture.
I stood in the doorway and stared.
For a moment, I could almost hear the laughter I imagined filling the room.
Then reality returned.
There was no baby coming.
No wife.
No family beginning the way I believed.
I walked toward the crib.
Inside was a small stuffed bear.
I picked it up.
Then I began crying.
I cried harder than I had in years.
Not because I wanted Nia back.
Because I was grieving a child who had never existed.
A future I had loved before it became real.
I sat on the nursery floor until the room grew dark.
Then my phone rang.
Jasmine.
I answered.
"Marcus?"
I tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
She became quiet.
"Where are you?"
"Home."
"I'm coming."
I wanted to tell her not to.
But I couldn't.
Twenty minutes later, Jasmine arrived.
She found me sitting beside the crib.
She didn't ask questions.
She sat beside me.
Then she wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
I leaned into her.
For a long time, I cried against my sister.
Finally, I whispered, "I bought everything for a baby who isn't real."
Jasmine held me tighter.
"I know."
"I loved that baby."
Her voice broke.
"I know."
I wiped my face.
"How do I stop feeling like I lost a child?"
She looked at me.
"You don't have to stop feeling it tonight."
I swallowed.
She continued.
"You loved the future you believed was coming. Losing that future hurts."
I nodded.
Then she took my hand.
"But you're still here."
I looked at her.
"And you still have people who love you."
I began crying again.
She held me until I could breathe.
The next morning, Rochelle called.
"Marcus, the information about Noah has been confirmed."
My heart tightened.
"Is he safe?"
"As far as we can establish, he's living with his grandmother."
I exhaled.
"Good."
Then she continued.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The boy's grandmother has agreed to speak through an attorney."
I frowned.
"Why?"
Rochelle hesitated.
"Because she says Nia has been using Noah's identity in financial paperwork."
I stopped breathing.
I stared toward the nursery.
The child Nia had hidden from me wasn't only part of her personal deception.
He might also have been used in the same financial scheme that targeted my family.
And suddenly, I knew I couldn't simply walk away.
May you like
Not until the truth was established.
And not until the people who had been harmed were protected.
