Chapter 6
The police officer stood in my living room, examining the threatening message on my phone.
"Do you know this man personally?"
I nodded.
"He's my wife's former boyfriend."
The officer looked up.
"And you believe he's involved in financial fraud?"
"That's what we're investigating."
I handed him copies of the documents Rebecca had prepared.
The officer reviewed them carefully.
Then he asked about the message.
"Has he threatened you before?"
"Not directly."
"Has he ever been violent?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
That frightened me more than I wanted to admit.
For weeks, I had believed Jordan was simply an arrogant man trying to interfere in my marriage.
Now I was beginning to see someone willing to deceive multiple people and disappear when questions became uncomfortable.
The officer advised me to preserve the messages, avoid contact, and call immediately if Jordan appeared.
Rebecca was coordinating with the lender and appropriate investigators.
David insisted on staying with me that night.
I didn't argue.
At midnight, I stood by the kitchen window.
The street was quiet.
Every passing car made my heart race.
David approached with two cups of coffee.
"You're going to wear a hole in that floor."
I managed a weak smile.
"Probably."
He handed me a cup.
"Come sit down."
I shook my head.
"I can't."
He leaned against the counter.
"Marcus, this isn't your fault."
I stared at him.
"I know."
But part of me didn't believe it.
I kept replaying every warning sign.
Every strange conversation.
Every evening when Nia seemed distracted.
Every time she accused me of hiding something.
I wondered whether I could have stopped everything earlier.
David seemed to read my thoughts.
"You trusted your wife. That's not a crime."
I looked at him.
"Maybe I trusted too much."
"Maybe. But betrayal belongs to the people who choose it."
I sat down.
For the first time that evening, I allowed myself to breathe.
The following morning, Nia appeared at the front door.
She looked terrible.
Her ponytail was messy.
Her eyes were swollen.
She wore the same jeans from two days earlier.
When I opened the door, she began crying.
"Marcus."
I remained in the doorway.
"What do you need?"
She stared at me.
"I didn't know Jordan was married."
I said nothing.
"I swear."
I studied her expression.
"Did you know he was using Monique's name for the studio?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I took a breath.
"Did you know he was taking money from the business?"
"No. He told me the expenses were normal."
Her voice cracked.
"He said we'd open next month. He said everything was going to work."
I looked at her.
"And you believed him."
She nodded.
Then she whispered, "I wanted to."
That admission hurt more than an excuse would have.
Because it was honest.
Nia had wanted a life with Jordan.
She had wanted the excitement of starting a business.
She had wanted someone who made her feel independent and powerful.
And she had been willing to betray me to pursue it.
I stepped aside.
"You can sit in the living room."
She entered cautiously.
David was already there.
He greeted her politely but remained distant.
Nia sat on the sofa.
I remained standing.
"Tell me everything."
She took a breath.
Then she began.
Four months earlier, Jordan had contacted her through social media.
He congratulated her on a promotion at the beauty salon.
They began talking.
At first, the conversations were harmless.
Then Jordan started complaining about his life.
He said he felt trapped.
He said he had never stopped thinking about Nia.
He told her she deserved more than the predictable life she had built with me.
Nia admitted that she liked hearing those things.
She had been frustrated.
She wanted to open her own business.
I had encouraged her to create a plan first.
Jordan told her I was holding her back.
"He said you wanted me dependent on you," she whispered.
I stared at her.
"And you believed him?"
She looked ashamed.
"Sometimes."
I shook my head.
"Nia, I helped pay for your business courses. I offered to introduce you to investors."
"I know."
"Then how did that become control?"
She began crying.
"Because I was angry that you wouldn't just give me the money."
There it was.
The truth.
Not a complicated misunderstanding.
Not an innocent mistake.
She wanted something immediately.
I wanted her to prepare responsibly.
And Jordan offered a shortcut.
She continued.
He convinced her to apply for financing.
When she worried about qualifying, he suggested using my information.
"He said spouses share everything anyway," she whispered.
I stared at her.
"And you agreed?"
She nodded.
I felt sick.
Then she admitted the kiss.
Jordan had kissed her after they signed the lease for the studio.
She didn't stop him.
Later, he gave her the diamond ring.
He told her that if the business succeeded, they could begin a new life together.
I stared at her.
"You were planning to leave me."
She lowered her head.
"Yes."
David looked away.
My chest tightened.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then I asked, "Why didn't you just tell me?"
Nia began crying harder.
"Because I knew I'd lose the house, the security, everything."
I stared at her.
"So you wanted to keep what I provided until your new life was ready."
She covered her face.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
I had suspected it.
But hearing her admit it destroyed the last excuse I had been holding onto.
After a long silence, Nia whispered, "Marcus, I know you won't believe me, but I still love you."
I looked at her.
"Maybe you do."
She raised her eyes hopefully.
"But whatever you feel for me didn't stop you from betraying me."
Her face collapsed.
"I know."
I sat across from her.
"Nia, I'm going to help the investigation because my identity was used. But I'm not going to rescue you from every consequence."
She nodded through tears.
"I understand."
"You need your own attorney."
"I know."
"And you need to tell the truth."
She wiped her face.
"I will."
Before leaving, she looked at me.
"Is there any chance for us?"
I stared at her.
For four years, she had been my favorite person.
My best friend.
The woman I imagined growing old beside.
But when I looked at her now, I saw someone I didn't recognize.
"I don't know how to rebuild trust after this," I said.
She began crying again.
"I'll wait."
I shook my head.
"Don't build your future around waiting for me."
She looked devastated.
I continued.
"Build a future where you're honest with yourself."
She nodded slowly.
Then she left.
That afternoon, Rebecca called with news.
The bank had identified several suspicious withdrawals.
Jordan had attempted to transfer money to an account associated with a company in North Carolina.
But some of the transactions had been flagged.
Investigators were tracing the funds.
I felt cautious relief.
"Does that mean we can recover the money?"
"Possibly some of it. We need to wait for the investigation."
I nodded.
Then Rebecca's tone changed.
"Marcus, there's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"An investigator found an earlier loan application using your business details."
I froze.
"Earlier?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Six months ago."
Six months.
Before Nia claimed Jordan contacted her.
Before the fitness studio.
Before the secret messages.
I stared at the wall.
"How much?"
Rebecca paused.
"Two hundred thousand dollars."
I couldn't breathe.
"Was it approved?"
"No. It appears to have been rejected."
I swallowed.
"Who submitted it?"
"We don't know yet."
She hesitated.
"But the application includes information that came from documents inside your home."
My hands began shaking.
Because suddenly, Nia's timeline no longer made sense.
She said Jordan returned four months ago.
May you like
But someone had been trying to use my identity six months earlier.
And I was beginning to wonder whether my wife had been lying about when the betrayal truly began.
