Chapter 7
The next morning, I went back to my house.
Not to reconcile.
Not to argue.
I needed important financial records, personal belongings, and documents that might help protect my company.
Daniel had advised me to coordinate the visit and avoid confrontation.
Denise came with me.
So did Carlos.
When we arrived, Linda's SUV was parked in the driveway.
I sat in the passenger seat for a moment, looking at the front windows.
I had spent so many years believing that house represented everything good in my life.
Now the thought of entering it made my stomach twist.
"Ready?" Denise asked.
I nodded.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
I walked slowly toward the front door.
My legs were stronger than they had been a week earlier.
The pain remained, but I was learning how to manage it.
I rang the bell.
Linda opened the door.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was pulled back.
Dark circles surrounded her eyes.
When she saw me standing, tears immediately formed.
"Marcus."
"Hello, Linda."
Her gaze shifted toward Denise and Carlos.
"Why are they here?"
"To help me collect my things."
She stepped aside.
We entered.
The house smelled the same.
Fresh flowers.
Furniture polish.
The cinnamon candles Linda always burned in the hallway.
For one terrible moment, I wanted to pretend nothing had changed.
Then I noticed the framed wedding photograph on the wall.
I looked away.
Linda followed me into the living room.
"Can we please speak alone?"
I hesitated.
Denise looked at me.
"It's your decision."
I nodded.
"Five minutes."
Carlos and Denise remained near the entrance.
Linda led me into the dining room.
The same room where we had celebrated anniversaries and holidays.
She sat down.
I remained standing.
"Marcus, I know you hate me."
I shook my head.
"I don't hate you."
She began crying.
"Then why are you treating me like a criminal?"
"Because there are serious questions about money, forged signatures, and documents prepared behind my back."
She covered her face.
"I made mistakes."
"What mistakes?"
She didn't answer.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "Raymond told me the company was in trouble."
I frowned.
"When?"
"After your accident."
"What kind of trouble?"
"He said several major contracts were at risk. He said we needed to move assets before creditors could take them."
I stared at her.
"Did you verify anything?"
She shook her head.
"I trusted him."
"More than me?"
Her tears fell harder.
"I didn't want to worry you."
I felt anger rise.
"Linda, I was conscious. I could speak. I could make decisions. I was recovering from an injury, not losing my mind."
"I know that now."
"You knew it then."
She looked away.
I stepped closer.
"Did you sign the loan documents?"
Her face changed.
"Marcus..."
"Yes or no?"
She nodded.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Did you sign my name?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
"Raymond handled that part."
I stared at her.
"You knew someone was signing documents in my name?"
"I thought you had given permission."
"While I was unconscious?"
She began sobbing.
"I wasn't thinking clearly."
I stepped back.
For months, I had wondered what could make a person betray someone they loved.
Fear?
Greed?
Resentment?
The answer standing in front of me was painfully ordinary.
Linda had wanted security without responsibility.
And when Raymond offered a shortcut, she hadn't asked enough questions.
I took a slow breath.
"There's something else I need to know."
She looked up.
"Why did you support Jasmine when she wanted me sent away?"
Her expression crumpled.
"Because I was overwhelmed."
"With what?"
"Everything! Your appointments. The bills. Raymond calling constantly. Jasmine crying. I didn't know how to handle any of it."
I stared at her.
"You could have talked to me."
"You were already suffering."
"So you made sure I suffered alone?"
She lowered her head.
I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
"When I was lying in that hospital bed, Linda, I wasn't afraid of dying."
She looked up.
"I was afraid I'd wake up and never be able to hold you again."
She covered her mouth.
"I spent every therapy session imagining the day I could stand beside you."
My voice broke.
"And all that time, you were planning how to move me out of our home."
She began shaking.
"I'm sorry."
I nodded slowly.
"I believe you're sorry now."
She reached toward me.
I stepped back.
"But I'm not convinced you would have stopped if I hadn't discovered everything."
Linda's hand fell.
I turned toward the door.
"Marcus, wait."
I stopped.
She whispered, "Raymond has been threatening me."
I turned around.
"What kind of threats?"
"He says he has recordings. Emails. Bank records. He says if I cooperate with investigators, he'll make sure I take all the blame."
My jaw tightened.
"Then tell the truth."
She looked terrified.
"He'll destroy me."
I stared at her.
"Linda, you've already helped destroy our marriage. Don't make things worse by protecting him."
I left the dining room before she could answer.
Upstairs, I collected my passport, personal records, photographs of my mother, and a few belongings.
I found an old photograph of Jasmine sitting on my shoulders at a county fair.
She couldn't have been older than eight.
Her arms were wrapped around my forehead.
Both of us were laughing.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at it.
I remembered that day.
She had wanted a giant stuffed bear.
I spent nearly forty dollars trying to win it.
When I finally succeeded, she kissed my cheek.
"You're the best daddy in the world."
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
Then Denise appeared in the doorway.
"You okay?"
I looked up.
"No."
She sat beside me.
"I know."
"I don't understand how we got here."
She studied the photograph.
"People make choices, Marcus. Sometimes those choices reveal things we'd rather not see."
I nodded.
After we finished packing, we carried my belongings downstairs.
Linda stood near the front door.
She watched silently.
When I reached her, she whispered, "Are we really finished?"
I looked at the woman I had loved for fourteen years.
"I don't know what happens next, Linda. But the marriage we had is gone."
Her face collapsed.
I stepped outside.
Carlos loaded the boxes into his truck.
As I turned toward Denise's car, a black sedan pulled into the driveway.
Raymond stepped out.
He wore an expensive gray suit and the smug expression I had always disliked.
"Marcus!" he called.
I stopped.
Raymond walked toward us.
"Glad I caught you."
Carlos moved closer.
Denise folded her arms.
"What do you want?" I asked.
Raymond smiled.
"We need to settle this little misunderstanding."
I stared at him.
"There's nothing little about it."
He glanced toward Linda.
She had stepped outside.
Her face went pale.
Raymond lowered his voice.
"Look, man. You've been through a lot. Nobody wants this getting ugly."
I looked him directly in the eyes.
"Then why did you forge my signature?"
His smile vanished.
"Be careful what you accuse people of."
"Why did you move company money into your accounts?"
He glanced at Carlos.
"You really want to discuss business in the driveway?"
"I want you to answer."
Raymond stepped closer.
"Marcus, you have no idea how much trouble you're causing."
I felt Carlos shift beside me.
I raised my hand.
"Don't."
Raymond laughed coldly.
"You think because you can stand up now, everything goes back to how it was?"
I stared at him.
"No."
For the first time, I smiled.
"Everything is about to change."
He narrowed his eyes.
I continued.
"The records have been preserved. The relevant authorities will receive the evidence. And you're no longer authorized to act for my company."
Raymond's face turned red.
Then Linda spoke from the doorway.
"Raymond, leave."
He spun toward her.
"What?"
"Leave us alone."
For a moment, I saw fear in her eyes.
Then something else.
Determination.
Raymond stared at her.
"You better think carefully, Linda."
She lifted her chin.
"I have."
He took a step toward her.
Carlos moved between them.
"That's enough."
Raymond glared at him.
Then he walked back to his car.
Before getting inside, he looked at me.
"You'll regret this, Marcus."
I watched him drive away.
Linda stood trembling.
I wanted to comfort her.
Instead, I looked toward Denise.
"Let's go."
As we pulled away, my phone rang.
It was Daniel.
His voice sounded urgent.
"Marcus, are you somewhere safe?"
"Yes."
"Good. We just received confirmation from the lender."
I gripped the phone.
"About the loan?"
"Yes."
"What did they find?"
"The signature they received was submitted with an electronic identification package."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Daniel paused.
"It means someone used images of your identification and personal information to support the application."
My heart began pounding.
"Who?"
"We're still tracing the submission."
May you like
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"But the contact email on the application belongs to Jasmine."
