Chapter 1
My wife slammed three property deeds onto the breakfast table so hard that my coffee spilled across the marble.
“Steven gets all three properties, Marcus. One isn't enough!”
I stared at her.
For a moment, I honestly thought I had misunderstood.
The woman standing across from me was Felicia Bennett, my wife of six years.
She was forty-three, beautiful, ambitious, and dressed in white satin pajamas that probably cost more than most people's monthly grocery bills.
But that morning, I saw something in her eyes that made me question everything about our marriage.
“Are you serious?” I asked.
She crossed her arms.
“Completely.”
I slowly placed my fork beside my plate.
“Felicia, we discussed this yesterday.”
“And yesterday, you didn't listen.”
She pointed at the documents.
“Steven needs security. He needs a future.”
I looked down at the three deeds.
The first belonged to a commercial property in downtown Atlanta.
The second was a rental duplex in Savannah.
The third was a beautiful four-bedroom house in Buckhead.
The house my daughter Maya had inherited from her grandmother.
I looked back at my wife.
“Steven is twenty-four years old. He has a college degree, a car I helped him buy, and a job waiting for him at my company.”
Felicia rolled her eyes.
“A job isn't an inheritance.”
“Neither is someone else's property.”
Her mouth tightened.
“We're married, Marcus. My son is your responsibility too.”
I felt my temper rising.
“I have treated Steven like family since the day I married you.”
“Then prove it.”
I stared at her.
“By giving him three properties?”
“Yes.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“Those properties belong to my family. Two are part of a trust, and the Buckhead house already belongs to Maya.”
Felicia laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“Your precious daughter.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
She leaned across the table.
“Everything in this family revolves around Maya.”
“That isn't true.”
“You paid for her education.”
“I helped pay for Steven's too.”
“You bought her a car.”
“I bought Steven a car.”
“You gave her a house!”
I stood slightly straighter.
“Her grandmother left her that house.”
Felicia waved her hand dismissively.
“Your mother was always playing favorites.”
My stomach tightened.
My mother, Eleanor Bennett, had died two years earlier.
She was the strongest woman I had ever known.
She worked as a school principal for thirty-eight years.
She saved carefully, invested wisely, and believed that every child deserved a safe place to call home.
When Maya was born, my mother began putting money aside for her.
Years later, she bought the Buckhead house.
Before her death, she arranged for the property to pass directly to Maya.
It was never mine to give away.
And Felicia knew that.
I looked at her.
“Don't bring my mother into this.”
“Why not? She's the reason your daughter thinks she's better than everybody.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“Maya has never acted better than anyone.”
Felicia slapped the table.
“Because you keep protecting her!”
I stood.
“Felicia, stop.”
She stepped closer.
“No. I'm tired of being told what I can and cannot ask for in my own marriage.”
“Our marriage doesn't give you ownership of everything my parents left behind.”
She stared at me.
Then she said something I would never forget.
“Then Maya can leave.”
I didn't move.
Felicia continued.
“I'll throw your daughter out of that house myself. She doesn't need a mansion when my son is struggling.”
My chair scraped violently across the floor as I stood completely upright.
“Say that again.”
She lifted her chin.
“You heard me.”
I stared into her eyes.
“You're threatening to throw my daughter out of her own home?”
“If that's what it takes.”
I reached across the table and picked up the Buckhead property deed.
Then I turned it toward her.
“Read the owner's name.”
Felicia glanced down.
“Don't play games with me.”
“Read it.”
She looked again.
Her expression changed slightly.
“Maya Bennett.”
“Exactly.”
I placed the deed between us.
“That house is legally hers. Not mine. Not yours. And certainly not Steven's.”
Felicia's face reddened.
“You could make her transfer it.”
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I couldn't believe the audacity.
“You want me to pressure my own daughter into giving up the home her grandmother left her?”
“She has enough!”
“That's not your decision.”
Felicia grabbed the other documents.
“Fine. Then Steven gets the downtown property and the Savannah duplex.”
I took them from her hand.
“No.”
Her eyes widened.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I mean no.”
“Marcus, don't you dare!”
I gathered the deeds into a neat stack.
“You came into this room demanding my family's property. Then you threatened my daughter.”
She stared at me.
I pointed toward the hallway.
“After today, you will not have control over another property I own.”
Her expression shifted.
For the first time, she looked uncertain.
“What are you saying?”
I reached beside my chair.
A sealed envelope rested inside my leather briefcase.
I had collected it from my attorney's office that morning.
Until this moment, I hadn't planned to show it to Felicia.
But now I knew I had no choice.
I placed the envelope on the table.
“Read whose name I removed this morning.”
Felicia looked at it.
Then back at me.
“Removed from what?”
I didn't answer.
She reached for the envelope.
Her fingers trembled.
“Marcus, what have you done?”
I watched her open the seal.
Inside was a copy of a document concerning the Bennett Family Living Trust.
Her eyes moved down the page.
Then stopped.
The color disappeared from her face.
“No.”
She read the page again.
“This can't be right.”
I remained silent.
She looked up.
“Marcus, tell me this isn't real.”
I folded my arms.
“It's real.”
She gripped the paper.
“But you promised me!”
I looked at the woman I had once believed would grow old beside me.
“I promised to build a life with you, Felicia.”
My voice became quiet.
“I never promised to let you destroy my daughter's.”
She stumbled backward.
Then she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“You don't understand what you've just done.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Felicia looked toward the hallway.
Then back at the document.
“You should have talked to Steven first.”
I felt a strange tightening in my chest.
“Why?”
She swallowed.
“Because he already made arrangements.”
I stared at her.
“What arrangements?”
She shook her head.
“Marcus, please don't get angry.”
My heart began pounding.
“Felicia.”
She lowered her eyes.
“What has Steven done?”
She looked at the three property deeds.
May you like
Then she whispered the sentence that turned our family argument into something far more dangerous.
“He's already promised those properties to someone else.”
