Chapter 3
I reached Simone's house just after six that evening.
By then, my face was swollen from crying.
My twins were hungry.
And my phone contained seventeen missed calls from Marcus.
Simone opened the door before I knocked.
She took one look at me and stepped aside.
"Come in."
I pushed the stroller inside.
Her husband, Daniel, came from the kitchen.
He was holding two clean bottles and a pack of diapers.
Simone must have warned him.
"Hey, Nia," he said gently. "We've got everything ready."
That kindness almost destroyed me.
For months, I'd been doing everything alone.
And now somebody had thought to prepare bottles before I even arrived.
I started crying again.
Simone wrapped her arms around me.
"You're here. The babies are here. That's what matters tonight."
I wanted to believe her.
But sixty-eight thousand dollars was missing.
And I had no idea how much worse things could get.
After feeding Noah and Naomi, I laid them in the portable cribs Daniel had brought from storage.
Then I sat at Simone's kitchen table.
I showed them Vanessa's messages.
Daniel studied the bank transfer.
"Do you recognize the account?"
"Yes."
My voice cracked.
"It belonged to my grandmother."
Simone's expression changed.
"Grandma Evelyn's account?"
I nodded.
Our grandmother had raised us after our mother became ill.
She cleaned offices at night.
Worked at a school cafeteria during the day.
And somehow saved enough money to help both of us start adult life.
When she died, she left me a modest inheritance.
I hadn't spent most of it.
I wanted my children to have opportunities I'd never had.
"Marcus knew about that money," Simone said.
"He helped me organize our accounts after the twins were born."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Did you give him access?"
I hesitated.
"I gave him the login once."
Simone closed her eyes.
"Nia."
"He said he needed to check something for our taxes."
Daniel spoke calmly.
"Don't blame yourself for trusting your husband."
I looked down.
The words sounded kind.
But I still felt foolish.
I'd trusted Marcus with everything.
Our marriage.
Our babies.
Our money.
And he'd used that trust against me.
Daniel suggested I contact the bank immediately.
I called the fraud department.
After verifying my identity, I explained what had happened.
The representative confirmed several transfers had left my savings account over the previous four months.
The total was $68,000.
Some went directly to an escrow account.
Others went to a business account registered under Marcus's name.
I felt dizzy.
"Can you reverse them?"
The representative explained that an investigation would be required.
She helped me secure the account and provided a case number.
I changed every password I could think of.
Then I checked the balance.
$1,842.
That was all that remained.
I stared at the screen.
My grandmother had worked decades to save that money.
And Marcus had taken almost all of it.
I pressed my forehead against the table.
Simone sat beside me.
"We'll get through this."
I shook my head.
"How?"
"One step at a time."
My phone rang again.
Marcus.
I answered before Simone could stop me.
"What do you want?"
His voice sounded irritated.
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Nia, don't start."
I gripped the phone.
"Where is my money?"
Silence.
Then he laughed nervously.
"What money?"
"Sixty-eight thousand dollars."
Another pause.
"Listen, I can explain."
"Then explain."
"It's an investment."
I closed my eyes.
"An investment?"
"Temporary. I was going to put it back."
"When?"
"Soon."
"Marcus, that money was for our children."
He sighed.
"We're married. Everything we own is shared."
"Not everything."
He raised his voice.
"Don't turn this into some legal nightmare."
I stared at the wall.
"You stole from our babies."
"That's dramatic."
Something inside me snapped.
"Don't you dare call me dramatic."
Simone reached for my hand.
Marcus continued.
"Vanessa doesn't understand the financial arrangement."
I almost laughed.
"Apparently neither do I."
He lowered his voice.
"Nia, come home. We can talk privately."
"No."
"You're my wife."
"And you were kissing someone else while I stood there holding your children."
He went silent.
Then he said something that chilled me.
"You need to remember whose name is on the mortgage."
I froze.
Our family house had been purchased two years before our wedding.
Marcus's name was on the original mortgage.
But after we married, I had helped pay every monthly bill.
We had discussed refinancing it into both names.
He'd always said we'd do it later.
Now I understood why.
"Are you threatening to take our home?"
"I'm reminding you to be reasonable."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
Simone looked at me.
"What did he say?"
I repeated his words.
Daniel frowned.
"That's intimidation."
I nodded.
For the first time, I felt afraid of what Marcus might do next.
Not physically.
Financially.
Legally.
He knew every account.
Every document.
Every weakness in our situation.
I had spent five years believing we were partners.
Now I realized he might have been preparing for a very different future.
The next morning, Simone helped me contact an attorney.
Her name was Camille Brooks.
She specialized in family law and financial disputes.
We met that afternoon.
I brought everything.
The photographs.
The messages.
The bank statements.
The property documents.
Camille reviewed them carefully.
Then she asked, "Did you authorize any of these transfers?"
"No."
"Did you know about the property purchase?"
"No."
"Did Marcus tell you he was purchasing a house?"
"He told me he was helping a client."
She nodded.
"We need to investigate the financial trail."
I leaned forward.
"Can he take our house?"
"That depends on the ownership documents and applicable law. We'll examine everything."
I swallowed.
"And the twins?"
Camille's expression softened.
"Your children's safety and stability are our priority."
I nodded.
She continued.
"Don't sign anything Marcus sends you without legal review."
"I won't."
"Preserve all messages."
"I have."
"And keep communication focused on the children and necessary arrangements."
I took a breath.
For the first time, I felt a little less helpless.
Then Camille turned to the property paperwork.
She frowned.
"That's strange."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She pointed to a signature.
"Did you sign this?"
I leaned closer.
The page showed a consent form.
My name was printed beneath a signature.
Nia Bennett.
The handwriting looked almost exactly like mine.
But I had never signed it.
"No," I whispered.
Camille studied me.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
She sat back.
"Then we may be dealing with forgery."
I stared at the paper.
My husband's betrayal had already destroyed my trust.
Now it threatened my identity.
My savings.
My children's future.
And possibly our home.
Then Camille noticed something else.
At the bottom of the form was a witness signature.
Vanessa Carter.
I stared at the name.
"She signed it?"
Camille nodded.
"According to this document."
I felt the room spin.
Vanessa had claimed she knew nothing about our marriage.
Yet her signature appeared beside mine.
May you like
And suddenly, I wasn't sure whether she'd been deceived.
Or whether both of them were deceiving me.
