Chapter 6
The house was beautiful.
That was the first thing I noticed when Rochelle showed me the property photographs.
Four bedrooms.
A large kitchen.
A fenced backyard.
A small playroom painted pale blue.
I stared at the pictures.
Then I saw a tiny red bicycle leaning against the garage.
Noah's bicycle.
My chest tightened.
The property had been purchased through a company connected to Daniel.
Financial records suggested that funds from Collins Family Holdings had contributed to the purchase.
Rochelle explained that investigators were still tracing the money.
But the connection was serious.
I looked at the photographs again.
For months, Nia had told me she wanted a home where our future child could grow up.
Now I realized she had been helping purchase a home for the family she had hidden from me.
I felt sick.
"Can we recover the money?" I asked.
Rochelle nodded cautiously.
"We can pursue appropriate civil remedies, and investigators are reviewing the financial transactions."
I swallowed.
"Good."
Then she looked at me.
"Marcus, there's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Daniel's attorney has contacted investigators about cooperation."
I stared at her.
"Against Nia?"
"Possibly."
I leaned back.
For months, Daniel had helped her lie.
Now he wanted to tell the truth.
I wondered whether he felt remorse.
Or whether he simply wanted a lighter consequence.
Maybe both.
I took a breath.
"What happens next?"
"We continue preserving evidence and let the legal process establish each person's role."
I nodded.
For the first time since the wedding, I wasn't looking for immediate revenge.
I wanted accountability.
And I wanted the innocent people involved to be safe.
That included Noah.
It included Patricia.
And it included Evelyn.
My aunt had been released from the rehabilitation facility after an independent review of her care.
She was recovering at home with proper medical support.
I visited every afternoon.
One evening, I found her sitting on the porch.
Her crutches rested beside her chair.
She wore a lavender cardigan and held a cup of tea.
When she saw me, she smiled.
"There's my boy."
I kissed her cheek.
"Hey, Auntie."
She looked toward the driveway.
"How's the business?"
"Still standing."
She laughed.
"Good."
I sat beside her.
For a while, we watched the sunset.
Then I asked something that had been bothering me.
"Auntie, why didn't you tell me you suspected Nia earlier?"
She sighed.
"I tried."
I looked down.
"I know."
She continued.
"But you were so happy."
My chest tightened.
"I thought you deserved that happiness."
I swallowed.
"Then I should have listened."
She reached for my hand.
"Marcus, I don't want you blaming yourself for every lie someone told."
I looked at her.
"But I also want you to remember something."
"What?"
"Love without honesty isn't safety."
I nodded slowly.
She squeezed my hand.
"And you deserve to feel safe in your own home."
My throat tightened.
I hadn't realized how badly I needed to hear that.
Then Evelyn became quiet.
"Marcus?"
"Yes?"
"Do you remember when your mother died?"
I looked toward her.
I was ten years old when my mother passed away after a long illness.
Evelyn moved into our home temporarily to help my father.
She cooked meals.
Helped with homework.
Took me to school.
And sat beside my bed whenever I cried.
"I remember," I whispered.
She nodded.
"You used to ask me if everybody you loved would eventually leave."
My chest tightened.
I remembered that too.
Evelyn smiled sadly.
"I told you that sometimes people leave, but it doesn't mean love disappears."
I wiped my eyes.
She continued.
"And sometimes the people who stay are the ones you never expected."
I looked at her.
She smiled.
"Your sister stayed."
I nodded.
"Your father stayed."
Tears filled my eyes.
"And I stayed."
I laughed softly through my tears.
"You sure did."
She squeezed my hand.
"Don't let Nia's choices convince you that everyone will betray you."
I closed my eyes.
For months, I had felt suspicious of everyone.
I checked every account.
Questioned every message.
Wondered whether every kind gesture hid an agenda.
I knew I couldn't live that way forever.
"I'll try," I whispered.
Evelyn smiled.
"That's all I ask."
The next morning, I attended my first counseling appointment.
My therapist, Dr. Harold Brooks, was a calm man in his fifties.
He listened while I explained the wedding.
The fake pregnancy.
The financial transfers.
Evelyn's isolation.
Noah.
Daniel.
Everything.
When I finished, he asked, "What hurts most?"
I stared at him.
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Then I whispered, "The baby."
His expression softened.
I began crying.
"I know there wasn't a pregnancy."
He nodded.
"But I had already become a father in my mind."
My voice broke.
"I talked to that baby."
I wiped my face.
"I read stories to Nia's stomach."
Dr. Brooks waited.
"I built a nursery."
Tears poured down my face.
"And now I feel foolish for grieving someone who never existed."
He shook his head gently.
"Your grief is connected to a future you believed was real."
I looked at him.
"That doesn't make it meaningless."
I began crying harder.
For the first time, I allowed myself to grieve without feeling ashamed.
I didn't have to pretend the fake pregnancy was simply a trick.
It had destroyed a dream.
And that dream deserved to be acknowledged before I could move forward.
Over the following weeks, I continued counseling.
I spent more time with Jasmine and Lily.
I visited Evelyn.
I returned to work.
Slowly, my life began feeling less like a disaster and more like something I could rebuild.
Then Rochelle called.
"Marcus, we have an important development."
My heart tightened.
"What happened?"
"The financial review found additional records."
I sat down.
"What records?"
"Documents connected to the insurance policy."
My stomach tightened.
I remembered the beneficiary change.
The forged signature.
The strange paperwork Nia asked me to sign.
Rochelle continued.
"The policy change was part of a larger package of documents."
I frowned.
"What package?"
"A proposed financial arrangement involving Nia's company."
I swallowed.
"Did it go through?"
"No. The insurer flagged inconsistencies."
I exhaled.
Then Rochelle became serious.
"Marcus, there's something you need to see."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"An email between Nia and Daniel."
I closed my eyes.
"What does it say?"
Rochelle hesitated.
"It discusses what would happen if you discovered the fake pregnancy before the wedding."
I stared at the wall.
"And?"
She took a breath.
"Nia instructed Daniel to make sure certain records disappeared."
My heart pounded.
Then she added something that made my body go cold.
"And the email mentions Evelyn's medical files."
I stood.
"What?"
Rochelle's voice was steady.
"Marcus, this may help explain why your aunt's records were altered."
I gripped the phone.
For months, I had feared Evelyn's isolation was connected to the financial scheme.
Now there was evidence suggesting that it was.
And I knew the next stage of the investigation would be the hardest.
May you like
Because this was no longer only about money.
It was about what happened to the woman who raised me.
