Chapter 5
Denise left the house that evening.
She packed two suitcases.
Called me controlling.
Accused Malik of turning me against her.
And said she needed time with her sister.
I didn't stop her.
But I did ask one question before she walked out.
"Denise, will you cooperate with the investigation?"
She looked at me.
Her eyes were filled with anger.
"You're really going to destroy our marriage over a bank account?"
I took a breath.
"Our marriage is in trouble because you tried to take my son's money."
She laughed bitterly.
"He's seventeen! He doesn't know how the world works!"
I stared at her.
"He knows the difference between his money and yours."
Her expression hardened.
Then she walked out.
The front door slammed.
For a moment, I stood motionless.
Eight years earlier, I'd promised to love Denise through every difficulty.
Now I was watching her leave because she refused to explain what she'd done.
I felt sad.
Angry.
And strangely relieved.
Then Malik appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Dad?"
I looked up.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Is she gone?"
I nodded.
"For now."
He swallowed.
"Are you mad at me?"
My heart broke.
I walked toward him.
"No."
He looked uncertain.
"Because I showed you the account?"
I shook my head.
"Malik, you did the right thing."
His eyes filled.
"Really?"
I opened my arms.
He came down the stairs and hugged me.
I held him tightly.
For the first time, I realized how much fear he'd been carrying.
He wasn't worried about fifty thousand dollars anymore.
He was worried that telling the truth had destroyed my marriage.
I kissed his forehead.
"Listen to me."
He looked up.
"You didn't cause this."
His lower lip trembled.
"Denise made her own choices."
He nodded.
"And I made mistakes by not listening sooner."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"But we're going to deal with this together."
Malik hugged me again.
That night, we ordered pizza.
Sat on the living-room floor.
And watched an old basketball game.
For the first time in months, Malik laughed freely.
I hadn't realized how quiet he'd become.
How often he'd stayed in his room.
How carefully he'd chosen his words around Denise.
I felt ashamed.
But I also felt determined.
I couldn't change the past.
I could change what happened next.
The following morning, I met with my attorney, Denise Carter.
I smiled sadly when she introduced herself.
"Two Denises in one week."
She laughed softly.
"Hopefully, I'm the easier one to work with."
I almost smiled.
Then we got serious.
I explained the attempted transfer from Malik's account.
The disputed loan involving Dad.
The message from Patricia.
And Denise's refusal to provide a clear explanation.
Attorney Carter listened carefully.
Then she asked to see the documents.
I handed them over.
She studied the signatures.
The account statements.
The transfer notification.
Then she looked at me.
"Marcus, we need to preserve everything."
I nodded.
"Of course."
She explained that the bank should be notified formally.
The disputed signatures needed examination.
And the attempted transfer records should be preserved.
She also recommended that Malik have access to independent guidance concerning his account because he was approaching adulthood.
I agreed.
I didn't want to replace Denise's control with my own.
Malik deserved to understand his rights.
That afternoon, we met with a bank representative.
Her name was Angela Brooks.
She greeted Malik warmly.
Then explained the account's protections.
The attempted fifty-thousand-dollar transfer had been declined.
No funds left Malik's account.
The bank had flagged the request because the recipient was not authorized.
I exhaled.
"Thank God."
Malik looked relieved.
Then Angela showed us something concerning.
The transfer request included a supporting document.
A letter supposedly signed by Malik.
I stared at it.
The letter authorized Denise to move funds for "family investment purposes."
My stomach tightened.
I turned toward my son.
"Did you sign this?"
He shook his head immediately.
"No!"
His voice cracked.
"I've never seen that!"
Angela nodded.
"The bank has marked the authorization as disputed."
I looked carefully at the signature.
It was a crude imitation of Malik's handwriting.
The letters were too large.
The final stroke was wrong.
I felt sick.
Someone had apparently tried to forge my son's signature too.
Malik began trembling.
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You're okay."
He looked at me.
"Dad, how did she get my signature?"
I thought about school forms.
Permission slips.
Sports applications.
Denise often collected paperwork when I was busy.
The answer seemed obvious.
But I didn't want to assume.
"We'll find out."
Angela explained the account protections and the next steps.
We left with copies of the relevant records.
Outside the bank, Malik stopped walking.
"Dad?"
I turned.
"Yeah?"
"Can I ask you something?"
I nodded.
"Anything."
He looked down.
"Do you still love Denise?"
My chest tightened.
I took a breath.
"Yes."
His expression fell.
I continued.
"But loving someone doesn't mean ignoring what they've done."
He looked up.
I nodded slowly.
"I have to make decisions that protect you and respect the law."
Malik swallowed.
"Even if she gets mad?"
I smiled sadly.
"Even then."
He nodded.
For a moment, I felt my father's presence.
His quiet wisdom.
His stubborn honesty.
I wished he were here.
Then my phone rang.
Samuel Price.
I answered.
"Mr. Price?"
His voice sounded serious.
"Marcus, we've received additional information about the old loan."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"The lender located a recorded verification call."
I stopped walking.
"What?"
Samuel continued.
"Someone called pretending to be Elijah."
My blood turned cold.
My father.
Someone had impersonated him.
Samuel took a breath.
"The recording may help identify who arranged the transaction."
I looked toward Malik.
He was watching me carefully.
"Can we hear it?"
Samuel hesitated.
"With the appropriate authorization, yes."
I closed my eyes.
Then he said something that made my stomach drop.
"Marcus, the caller used personal information about your father that very few people knew."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I whispered:
"Whoever did this wasn't guessing."
Samuel answered quietly:
May you like
"No. They knew your family very well."
And suddenly, I realized Denise might have been preparing to take my father's money long before she ever discovered Malik's account.
