Chapter 8
I stared at the phone in disbelief.
"Victor?"
Rebecca remained silent.
"My cousin Victor?"
"Yes."
I sat down slowly.
Victor Bennett had been part of my life since childhood.
We grew up in neighboring houses.
Played basketball together.
Spent summers at our grandmother's home.
When he struggled to find steady work, David and I hired him.
He started as a warehouse assistant.
Eventually, he became a procurement supervisor.
He had access to vendor records, company invoices, and certain financial documents.
I closed my eyes.
"Are you saying Victor helped Jordan?"
Rebecca spoke carefully.
"The messages suggest he provided information. Investigators are examining the extent of his involvement."
I felt sick.
Another betrayal.
Another person I trusted.
Another piece of my life that no longer made sense.
"Why would he do that?"
"We don't know yet."
I ended the call and immediately contacted David.
When I told him, he went silent.
Then he said, "Meet me at the office."
Thirty minutes later, I walked into the conference room.
David was already there.
So was Carlos, our operations manager.
Victor's workstation had been secured.
His access to company systems was suspended pending investigation.
I sat down.
David looked exhausted.
"I never thought he'd do something like this."
I shook my head.
"Neither did I."
Carlos placed several documents on the table.
"We found unusual activity linked to Victor's account."
My heart tightened.
"What kind?"
"Access to archived financial records outside normal working hours."
I stared at the logs.
Several dates matched the period when the first loan application was submitted.
Victor had opened folders containing my income statements.
Business registration documents.
And copies of identification records used for tax and banking purposes.
My hands trembled.
"He had no reason to access those."
Carlos nodded.
"That's why we're preserving everything."
David leaned back.
"Marcus, we have to let the investigation run."
I stared at him.
"I know."
But inside, I was furious.
Victor had watched me build this company.
He knew how much it meant to me.
And he had apparently helped someone use my identity to steal money.
The following afternoon, Victor requested a meeting.
Rebecca advised that any discussion related to the investigation should take place through counsel.
I refused to meet privately.
Instead, I received a letter from his attorney.
Victor admitted sharing certain company information with Jordan.
He claimed he had been told the documents were needed for a legitimate investment proposal.
He denied knowing about the forged loan application.
I stared at the letter.
Then I laughed bitterly.
Everyone had an explanation.
Everyone had misunderstood.
Everyone had been manipulated.
And somehow, I was the person left cleaning up the destruction.
David watched me.
"What are you thinking?"
I looked at him.
"I'm thinking about how many times I've rescued people from their own choices."
He nodded.
"Too many."
I stared at the conference table.
"Victor needed a job, so I gave him one."
"Yes."
"Nia wanted security, so I worked harder."
David remained silent.
"Jordan wanted access to our business, so he found people willing to help him."
I looked at my brother.
"And now they all want me to believe they didn't understand what they were doing."
David leaned forward.
"Marcus, you can be compassionate without being responsible for everyone else's mistakes."
I nodded slowly.
That was something I needed to learn.
Over the next several months, the investigation expanded.
Jordan was charged in connection with the alleged financial scheme.
Tasha and Victor faced separate legal consequences based on their documented roles.
Nia continued cooperating with investigators.
Monique provided financial records and statements.
I spent hours reviewing documents with Rebecca.
It was exhausting.
But each piece of evidence brought us closer to understanding what had happened.
Eventually, the lender completed its investigation.
Rebecca called me into her office.
When I arrived, she was smiling.
That alone gave me hope.
"Marcus, we have good news."
My heart raced.
"What?"
"The lender has determined that the loan application was unauthorized."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"They're removing the fraudulent obligation from your account while pursuing recovery through the proper legal channels."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
"Does that mean I don't owe the seventy-five thousand dollars?"
"Based on the lender's determination, they're not holding you responsible for that fraudulent debt."
I covered my face.
Relief rushed through me so suddenly that I began crying.
Rebecca waited.
I wiped my eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize."
I laughed through tears.
"I thought this would destroy me."
She smiled.
"It didn't."
I shook my head.
"Not financially."
Her expression softened.
"I know."
I sat back.
The debt was no longer hanging over me.
But my marriage was still over.
My trust had been damaged.
And several people I loved were facing consequences.
Justice could repair accounts.
It couldn't automatically repair a heart.
That evening, I called my mother.
Her cancer treatment had been difficult.
But she had recently received encouraging news.
Her doctors reported that her response to treatment was promising.
She was staying in the apartment I had rented near the hospital.
When she answered, her voice was warm.
"Marcus, baby."
I smiled.
"Hey, Mama."
"How are you?"
I paused.
"For the first time in months, I think I'm okay."
She was quiet.
Then she said, "Tell me."
I told her about the lender's decision.
She began crying.
"Thank God."
I smiled.
"Yeah."
Then she asked, "And your heart?"
I stared at the wall.
"Still healing."
She sighed softly.
"That takes longer."
I nodded.
"I know."
She continued.
"Your father used to say that losing someone who doesn't value you can feel like a punishment, even when it's protection."
My throat tightened.
I remembered my father.
He died when I was nineteen.
He had been a quiet man.
Hardworking.
Loyal.
The kind of man who believed promises meant something.
"I miss him," I whispered.
"So do I."
I wiped my eyes.
"Mama, do you think I'm doing the right thing?"
"By ending the marriage?"
"Yes."
She paused.
"Marcus, I can't make that decision for you. But I know my son. You gave that marriage your whole heart. If you believe the trust is gone, you have the right to choose peace."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank you."
She smiled through the phone.
"And don't let bitterness turn you into someone you're not."
I nodded.
"I won't."
After the call, I sat on my porch.
The evening air was warm.
For the first time in months, I felt the possibility of a future that didn't revolve around betrayal.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Nia.
Marcus, I found something in the old studio files.
I frowned.
Another message arrived.
It's about Jordan's other victims.
My stomach tightened.
Other victims?
Then she sent a photograph.
It showed a spreadsheet containing several names.
Several amounts.
Several dates.
And one name caught my attention immediately.
Monique Ellis.
Beside her name was a number.
One hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
I stared at the screen.
Jordan hadn't only targeted me.
May you like
He had apparently been running a much larger scheme.
And I realized our case might be only a small part of the damage he had caused.
