Chapter 3
I had spent twelve years building Bennett Construction.
Twelve years.
I started with one pickup truck, a borrowed toolbox, and four hundred dollars in savings.
Now I employed twenty-three people.
Men and women who depended on me to pay their wages.
People with mortgages.
Children.
Medical bills.
Families.
And my sister was telling me someone had been taking money from the company.
I held the phone tighter.
"Jasmine, are you certain?"
She answered carefully.
"I found transactions that need immediate investigation."
I swallowed.
"How much is missing?"
"At least eighty-nine thousand dollars appears to have been transferred without normal supporting invoices."
My stomach twisted.
I looked at Nia.
She was standing near the sofa, crying silently.
"Did you know about the company transfers?"
She shook her head.
"Marcus, I swear I didn't."
Jasmine heard her.
"Then ask Damian why his company received them."
Nia covered her face.
My sister continued.
"Marcus, call Olivia Grant. Don't confront Damian or move anything out of those accounts without advice."
Olivia was our business attorney.
She had helped me establish the company.
I nodded.
"Okay."
Jasmine's voice softened.
"Big brother, I'm sorry."
I closed my eyes.
"Me too."
After I ended the call, Nia approached.
"Marcus, I didn't steal from your business."
I looked at her.
"Then explain why Damian has access to our finances."
She swallowed.
"He said he was helping us invest."
I stared.
"Our finances?"
She nodded.
"He offered to review the accounts."
I felt sick.
"Nia, you gave him company information?"
Her eyes filled.
"Some statements."
My chest tightened.
"Which statements?"
She looked away.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered,
"The business operating account."
I covered my face.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
I remembered Damian visiting my office.
He asked questions about contracts.
Vendor payments.
Cash flow.
He said he was helping Nia plan for retirement.
I thought he was being generous.
Now I felt like a fool.
I looked at my wife.
"Did you give him passwords?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Then hesitated.
My stomach dropped.
"Nia."
She began crying.
"I gave him access to the shared financial portal."
I stared.
That portal displayed statements and invoices.
It didn't directly authorize transfers.
But it contained enough information to create convincing false paperwork.
I took a breath.
"Who else had authority to approve payments?"
Nia looked confused.
"Your office manager?"
I thought about it.
Tasha Reed.
She had worked for me for six years.
She handled payroll and vendor invoices.
She was careful.
Honest.
The kind of person who checked every number twice.
I couldn't imagine her stealing.
But I had said that about Nia too.
I closed my eyes.
I needed facts.
Not assumptions.
That afternoon, Olivia arrived with Jasmine.
We met in my study.
Nia sat across from us.
She looked exhausted.
Jasmine opened her laptop.
Then showed us the transfers.
Payments to Price Consulting Group.
Descriptions included financial planning.
Equipment leasing.
And project administration.
The amounts varied.
Nine thousand.
Fourteen thousand.
Twenty-one thousand.
Thirty-five thousand.
I stared.
"Those services were never approved."
Jasmine nodded.
"That's what we're trying to establish."
Olivia leaned forward.
"Marcus, preserve all company records. We may need an independent forensic accountant."
I nodded.
"Do it."
Nia began crying.
"I didn't know Damian was doing this."
Jasmine looked at her.
"Did you approve any of these invoices?"
Nia hesitated.
"One."
My heart stopped.
"Which one?"
She pointed toward a payment for twenty-one thousand dollars.
"I thought it was a business investment."
I stared.
"Why would you approve a company expense without telling me?"
She swallowed.
"Damian said it was temporary."
Jasmine closed her eyes.
I looked at Nia.
For years, she had handled our household finances beautifully.
She was intelligent.
Organized.
Careful.
But now she had allowed a man she was having an affair with to influence decisions involving my company.
I couldn't understand how she had crossed so many lines.
I took a slow breath.
"Nia, did Damian promise you anything?"
She looked down.
Then whispered,
"Yes."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"He said he could double our savings."
I stared.
"How?"
"He had an investment opportunity."
Olivia leaned forward.
"What opportunity?"
Nia swallowed.
"A commercial property fund."
Jasmine's expression changed.
"What's the fund called?"
Nia hesitated.
Then answered,
"Southern Crest Holdings."
My sister went completely still.
I looked at her.
"Jasmine?"
She stared at the screen.
Then whispered,
"That's the company that owns Price Consulting Group."
The room fell silent.
I looked at Nia.
She began shaking.
"I didn't know."
Jasmine continued.
"And Southern Crest Holdings is currently facing multiple investor complaints."
My chest tightened.
"What kind of complaints?"
"Missing distributions. Misleading statements. Failed withdrawal requests."
I felt sick.
Damian wasn't simply having an affair with my wife.
He appeared to be running a financial scheme.
And Nia might have helped him access our money.
Olivia took a breath.
"We need to report the suspected unauthorized transfers and secure the remaining accounts."
I nodded immediately.
"Whatever it takes."
Then Nia's phone rang.
Damian.
She stared at the screen.
I felt anger rise.
"Answer it."
Olivia held up a hand.
"Don't secretly record or confront him without advice. We can preserve any messages and handle contact appropriately."
Nia declined the call.
Seconds later, a message appeared.
Did you get the winning ticket?
My stomach tightened.
Another message followed.
Don't tell Marcus about the second account.
I stared at Nia.
Her face had gone pale.
I spoke quietly.
"What second account?"
She began crying.
"Marcus..."
I felt my hands curl into fists.
"What account?"
She looked at Jasmine.
Then at Olivia.
Finally, she whispered,
"The one with the house money."
My heart stopped.
Our house.
The home I had spent years paying for.
The place where I thought we were building our future.
I looked at Nia.
"What have you done?"
May you like
She covered her face.
And for the first time, I wondered whether my wife had already gambled away more than our marriage.
