Chapter 7
I sat across from Nia in Rebecca's conference room, staring at the rejected loan application.
The date was impossible to ignore.
Six months earlier.
Two months before Nia claimed Jordan had contacted her.
Rebecca placed the document between us.
"Nia, have you seen this before?"
Nia shook her head.
"No."
I watched her carefully.
"Are you sure?"
She looked at me.
"Marcus, I swear."
Rebecca remained calm.
"The application used Marcus's personal information and referenced Bennett Brothers Construction."
Nia stared at the page.
"I didn't submit that."
"Did Jordan have access to Marcus's documents at that time?"
She shook her head.
"Not through me."
I leaned forward.
"Then how did he get them?"
She looked frightened.
"I don't know."
Rebecca asked several questions.
Nia answered.
For the first time, her fear seemed genuine.
But I was tired of trusting appearances.
After the meeting, Rebecca called me into her office privately.
"Marcus, we need to consider another possibility."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Someone other than Nia may have provided your information."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"Anyone with access to the records."
I thought about our company.
Employees.
Contractors.
Accountants.
Vendors.
Then I remembered something.
Six months earlier, we had hired a temporary administrative assistant.
Her name was Tasha Monroe.
She worked in our office for three weeks before leaving unexpectedly.
I looked at Rebecca.
"There was a woman."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Tell me."
I explained.
Tasha had helped organize archived financial documents.
She had access to old business records.
She left after claiming she needed to care for a relative.
At the time, nobody thought much of it.
Rebecca wrote down her name.
"We'll look into that."
Two days later, David called.
His voice was tense.
"Marcus, you're not going to believe this."
I was standing in the construction yard.
"What happened?"
"I found Tasha's employment application."
"And?"
"Her emergency contact."
I frowned.
"What about it?"
David took a breath.
"It's Jordan Ellis."
I stood completely still.
"Jordan?"
"Yes."
My stomach dropped.
Everything began connecting.
Jordan had access to my business information before he contacted Nia.
The rejected loan application came shortly afterward.
Then Jordan returned to Nia's life.
Then the successful loan.
Then the studio.
Then the disappearance.
I closed my eyes.
"This was planned."
David's voice hardened.
"That's what it looks like."
I immediately contacted Rebecca.
She arranged for the information to be passed to investigators.
Over the next several days, more details emerged.
Tasha had previously worked with Jordan at a fitness center.
They had known each other for years.
Her employment at our company had lasted just long enough for her to access certain documents.
Investigators were examining whether she copied information without authorization.
I felt sick.
My wife had betrayed me.
But Jordan may have been targeting me before Nia ever became involved.
That possibility changed everything.
Not because it excused Nia.
It didn't.
But because it suggested Jordan had deliberately created a situation where he could exploit her dissatisfaction and use her access to my life.
Then Monique called.
"Marcus, I found something."
Her voice was urgent.
"What?"
"Jordan left an old laptop in our storage closet."
My heart pounded.
"Have you opened it?"
"No. I remembered what the attorney said about preserving evidence."
I exhaled.
"Good."
"I contacted Rebecca's office. They told me someone would help arrange proper collection."
I nodded.
"That's the right thing."
Monique hesitated.
"Marcus, can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"How do you stop feeling stupid?"
The question broke my heart.
I sat down.
"Monique..."
"I keep thinking I should've known. I shared a bed with him for three years. I believed him when he said he loved me."
I closed my eyes.
"I know exactly how that feels."
She began crying.
"I feel like my whole marriage was a lie."
I took a breath.
"Maybe some parts were real. Maybe they weren't. But his deception doesn't mean your love was foolish."
She was quiet.
Then she whispered, "Thank you."
We spoke for another few minutes.
By the time we ended the call, I realized something unexpected.
Monique and I were strangers connected by the same man's deception.
But neither of us had to carry that shame.
The following week, investigators confirmed that Jordan had been located in North Carolina.
He was questioned about the financial transactions.
Authorities obtained additional records.
Rebecca cautioned me that the process could take months.
I understood.
Justice wasn't a dramatic confrontation that solved everything in one afternoon.
It required evidence.
Patience.
And the willingness to face painful truths.
Meanwhile, my marriage was ending.
I had filed for divorce.
Nia accepted the papers without argument.
For the first time, she didn't accuse me of abandoning her.
She didn't tell me I was overreacting.
She simply cried.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"I know."
She stared at the wedding ring on her finger.
"Do you hate me?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Then why does it feel like you do?"
I took a slow breath.
"Because you're experiencing consequences, and I can't protect you from them."
She lowered her head.
"I understand."
I wasn't sure she truly did.
But I hoped someday she would.
As the financial investigation continued, Nia began working extra shifts at the salon.
She moved into a small apartment with a roommate.
She sold jewelry and designer handbags to cover legal expenses.
For the first time in our marriage, she was living with the financial consequences of her own decisions.
One evening, she called.
"Marcus?"
"Hello."
"I got a second job."
I hesitated.
"Okay."
"At a fitness center."
I almost laughed at the irony.
She continued.
"I'm cleaning equipment and working the front desk."
I nodded.
"That's honest work."
"I know."
She paused.
"I used to think I deserved everything immediately."
I remained silent.
"Now I understand how much effort it takes to build anything."
I looked out my window.
"That's an important lesson."
She began crying.
"I wish I learned it before I hurt you."
I swallowed.
"So do I."
After the call, I sat alone for a long time.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Rebecca.
We have a significant development. Call me.
I immediately dialed.
She answered.
"Marcus, investigators recovered communications from Jordan's accounts."
My heart raced.
"What did they find?"
"Messages indicating he planned to obtain money using your identity before reconnecting with Nia."
I closed my eyes.
"So he targeted me."
"That's what the evidence suggests."
I exhaled.
Then Rebecca continued.
"There's more."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Jordan appears to have discussed the plan with someone who had access to your company."
I thought about Tasha.
"Her?"
Rebecca paused.
"Yes. But the messages also mention another person."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
She took a breath.
"Someone named Victor."
I frowned.
"Victor who?"
Rebecca's voice grew serious.
"Victor Bennett."
I froze.
May you like
Because Victor Bennett was my cousin.
And he had worked for our family business for nearly ten years.
