Chapter 7
I stared at Camille's email for nearly ten minutes.
There it was.
My family address.
The house where I had brought Noah and Naomi home from the hospital.
The house where I'd painted their nursery pale green.
The house where Marcus and I had once talked about growing old together.
Now it appeared in documents connected to Seabridge Holdings.
I felt sick.
"How is this possible?" I asked Camille.
She explained that the paperwork appeared to be part of a proposed property transfer or financing arrangement.
But it hadn't been completed.
That was the important part.
The documents still needed verification.
And the property title remained unchanged.
I exhaled slowly.
"So they haven't taken it?"
"Not according to the records we've reviewed."
I closed my eyes.
"But they tried?"
"There are indications of an attempted transaction. We need to determine who prepared and authorized the documents."
I nodded.
Camille continued.
"We're taking steps to protect your interests and challenge any unauthorized signatures."
I looked toward the twins.
They were sleeping peacefully.
I couldn't believe how close we'd come to losing everything.
That evening, Marcus called.
I almost ignored him.
But I answered because Camille had advised me to preserve necessary communication about the children.
"What do you need?"
He sounded exhausted.
"Nia, please listen."
I waited.
"My mother got involved in something she shouldn't have."
My stomach tightened.
"Something?"
"She thought she was helping us."
I laughed bitterly.
"By taking my savings?"
"She didn't take it."
"Marcus, her company received the money."
He sighed.
"It's complicated."
"Then explain."
He hesitated.
Then said, "The investment was supposed to make us rich."
I stared at the wall.
"Us?"
"Yes."
"Which us? You and Vanessa? You and Patricia? Or you and the wife raising your children alone?"
Silence.
I continued.
"You bought another woman a house while I was using coupons for formula."
He whispered, "I know."
"You watched me worry about money."
"I know."
"You let your mother tell me I wasn't contributing enough."
His voice cracked.
"Nia, I made terrible decisions."
For a moment, I almost felt sympathy.
Then I remembered the threats.
The forged signature.
The stolen savings.
I took a breath.
"Do you want to see the twins?"
"Yes."
"Then work with Camille to arrange appropriate visits."
He sounded surprised.
"You'd let me?"
"I'm not using our children to punish you."
He went quiet.
"But I am protecting them from instability."
"I understand."
I wasn't sure he did.
But I wasn't going to debate it.
Before ending the call, he said something unexpected.
"My mother doesn't know I'm talking to you."
I frowned.
"Why does that matter?"
"Because she's telling me to fight you."
My stomach tightened.
"Fight me how?"
"She says I should make sure you don't get anything."
I closed my eyes.
"Then maybe you need to decide whether you're going to keep following her instructions."
He didn't answer.
I ended the call.
The next day, Camille called with encouraging news.
The bank had placed additional restrictions on the disputed accounts.
The attempted property transaction had been flagged.
And the title records did not show a completed transfer.
I felt a small wave of relief.
Then Daniel Price contacted us.
His financial review had identified a clear trail for a significant portion of the missing $68,000.
Some funds went toward the white house.
Others moved through Seabridge.
And a portion had been transferred into an account controlled by Patricia.
The findings were documented for the legal process.
I asked the question that had haunted me.
"Can we get it back?"
Daniel answered carefully.
"There are recovery options, but I can't guarantee the outcome."
I nodded.
I appreciated the honesty.
False promises were the last thing I needed.
That afternoon, I attended a job interview by video.
I wore a simple blouse.
Pulled my hair back.
And sat at Simone's kitchen table while she watched the twins.
My former supervisor smiled.
"Welcome back, Nia."
I felt tears rise.
"Thank you."
We discussed a part-time schedule.
Remote work.
Training updates.
By the end of the call, she offered me the position.
I accepted.
When I stepped into the living room, Simone looked up.
"Well?"
I smiled.
"I got it."
She screamed.
Then hugged me so tightly I laughed.
Daniel came from the kitchen holding Noah.
"What's happening?"
"She got the job!"
He grinned.
"Congratulations!"
For the first time since the port, I felt proud of something that had nothing to do with Marcus.
I had taken a step toward independence.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because I wanted stability.
The following week, the legal situation became more serious.
Camille informed me that investigators were reviewing the financial records.
Marcus and Patricia had been asked to provide information.
Alicia Grant had agreed to cooperate.
Vanessa had also provided documents and messages.
The evidence was growing.
Then one evening, Vanessa called.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?"
"Nia, I wanted you to hear something from me first."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"I ended things with Marcus."
I closed my eyes.
"Okay."
She continued.
"I also moved out of the white house."
I looked up.
"Where are you now?"
"Staying with my cousin."
There was a pause.
Then she said, "I found out he used your money for the down payment."
"I know."
Her voice cracked.
"I'm so sorry."
I didn't know what to say.
Vanessa continued.
"I've agreed to provide my records to your attorney."
"Thank you."
She hesitated.
"Nia, I don't expect you to forgive me."
I took a breath.
"I don't know what forgiveness looks like right now."
"I understand."
"But I appreciate you telling the truth."
She began crying.
We ended the call quietly.
I didn't consider Vanessa a friend.
Maybe I never would.
But I no longer saw her as the center of my pain.
Marcus had made promises to both of us.
He had lied to both of us.
And I refused to spend the rest of my life fighting another woman over a man who hadn't valued either one.
Then Camille called again.
Her voice was serious.
"Nia, we received a new document."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"A financial authorization dated shortly after the twins were born."
I sat down.
"Why does that matter?"
She hesitated.
"Because it appears to reference an account established for Noah and Naomi."
My heart pounded.
"What account?"
Camille took a breath.
"A custodial investment account."
I stared at the wall.
I'd never opened one.
May you like
I'd never discussed one.
And suddenly, I realized Marcus might have used our children's names for something I didn't know about.
