Chapter 7
I called emergency services while driving toward Jasmine's apartment.
My hands were shaking.
I told the dispatcher that an unknown man was outside my daughter's door claiming to be connected to a disputed debt.
I explained that Jasmine was alone.
The dispatcher instructed me to keep her inside and away from the door.
I called her back immediately.
"Sweetheart, I'm coming."
She was crying.
"Dad, he's still here."
"Are you in a safe room?"
"I'm in my bedroom."
"Good. Stay there. Help is on the way."
I could hear her breathing.
Short, frightened breaths.
Then another knock sounded through the phone.
"Jasmine!"
The man's voice was louder.
"Your uncle needs to talk to you."
I gripped the steering wheel.
"Don't answer him," I said.
"I won't."
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
I kept telling her I was there.
That she wasn't alone.
That I would stay on the phone.
Then I heard distant voices.
A police officer had arrived.
The knocking stopped.
Jasmine let out a shaky breath.
"Dad, I think they're talking to him."
I reached her building a few minutes later.
Two officers stood outside the apartment.
An unfamiliar man was speaking with one of them.
I didn't approach him.
I went straight to Jasmine.
She opened her door after the officers confirmed it was safe.
The moment she saw me, she rushed into my arms.
I held her tightly.
"I'm here."
She buried her face against my chest.
"I was so scared."
"I know."
One officer approached us.
The man had claimed he was trying to contact Jasmine about a financial dispute.
He had not been authorized to enter her apartment.
The officers documented the complaint and explained how Jasmine could report further harassment.
They also advised her to keep the letter and any recordings of future contact.
I thanked them.
After they left, Jasmine and I sat on her sofa.
She kept looking toward the door.
That small movement broke my heart.
"What do you need right now?" I asked.
She stared at me.
"I don't know."
"Would you feel safer staying with Aunt Denise tonight?"
She nodded immediately.
I helped her pack.
Before leaving, she looked around her apartment.
"I hate this."
"What?"
"Feeling scared in my own home."
I put a hand on her shoulder.
"You deserve better. We're going to work toward that."
At Denise's house, my sister opened the door before we reached the porch.
She took one look at Jasmine and pulled her into a hug.
"Oh, baby."
Jasmine started crying again.
Denise held her until her breathing settled.
Then she turned toward me.
"Where's Nia?"
"At the house."
"Good."
I knew what she meant.
For once, Jasmine needed an evening without Nia's presence hanging over everything.
Denise made tea.
We sat together at the kitchen table.
Jasmine described what happened.
Denise listened.
Then she looked at me.
"Marcus, this has to stop."
"I know."
"No more pretending it's a family disagreement."
"I know."
She reached across the table and squeezed my hand.
"Then do what you need to do."
I nodded.
The following morning, I met Robert and Maya.
I gave them the police incident information and the newest messages.
Maya arranged to include the harassment concerns in Jasmine's case file.
Robert had more troubling news.
The lender had sent copies of the documents used in the property transaction.
A signature presented as mine appeared on two pages.
There was also a copy of my driver's license.
I stared at it.
"How did Derrick get that?"
Robert looked at me.
"Do you keep a copy at home?"
"In my office safe."
"Who has access?"
"Nia knows the combination."
I felt my stomach sink.
Robert turned another page.
"The lender says the application was submitted electronically through a broker. They're reviewing whether the required authorizations were valid."
"Can we stop them from enforcing it?"
"We've notified them that you dispute the signature and authorization. We'll seek appropriate relief if necessary."
I leaned back.
"What happens to Nia?"
"That depends on what investigators can prove. Your job right now is to be truthful and preserve evidence."
I nodded.
For the first time, I understood the difference between justice and anger.
Anger wanted everything settled immediately.
Justice required patience, documentation, and the willingness to face unpleasant facts.
That afternoon, Nia called seventeen times.
I answered the eighteenth.
"Marcus?"
Her voice was hoarse.
"What is it?"
"Can we talk?"
"About what?"
"I have something you need to see."
I closed my eyes.
"Nia, if this is another excuse—"
"It's not."
She took a shaky breath.
"Derrick came back last night."
I sat upright.
"What happened?"
"He wanted the paperwork."
"What paperwork?"
"The original copies I kept."
"Did you give them to him?"
"No."
I waited.
Nia began crying.
"He got angry. He said I was ruining everything."
"Did he threaten you?"
She hesitated.
"He said if I turned against him, he'd make sure I took the blame."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Where are the documents?"
"In a folder."
"Don't change anything. Robert can arrange to receive them."
"Marcus, there's something else."
I closed my eyes.
"What?"
"There's a message from Derrick admitting he used Jasmine's information."
I stood.
"Save it."
"I already did."
"And Nia?"
"Yes?"
"Don't contact him again. If he threatens you, call the police."
She started crying harder.
"Do you still care about me?"
I stared at the wall.
I did.
That was the terrible truth.
Seven years of marriage didn't vanish in a single night.
But caring about someone did not erase the harm they had caused.
"I don't want anyone hurt," I said.
She was silent.
Then she whispered, "I understand."
We arranged for Robert to receive the documents.
Later that evening, I visited Denise.
Jasmine was sitting at the table with her laptop open.
She looked up when I entered.
"Dad?"
"Hey, sweetheart."
She smiled faintly.
"Look."
She turned the screen toward me.
It showed an email from the university.
Her delayed financial aid had finally been processed.
The payment had cleared.
Her enrollment was secure.
I smiled.
"That's wonderful."
She nodded.
Then her face changed.
"Do you think this is going to be over soon?"
I sat beside her.
"I don't know how long it will take."
Her shoulders lowered.
"But I can promise something."
She looked at me.
"You won't face it alone."
Her eyes filled with tears.
She reached for my hand.
And just as I squeezed it, my phone rang.
Robert.
I answered.
"Marcus?"
"Yes?"
"We've reviewed the documents Nia provided."
I held my breath.
"And?"
His voice was serious.
"The records suggest Derrick wasn't acting alone."
I stared at the floor.
"What do you mean?"
Robert paused.
"There's another person connected to the loan applications."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Who?"
"The broker who processed them."
I waited.
May you like
Then Robert said something I hadn't expected.
"The broker's name is Victor Lane. And according to the documents, he's handled transactions for your construction company before."
