Chapter 2
I stared at my wife.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what she had just said.
“Promised them to someone else?”
Felicia looked toward the breakfast room doorway.
“Lower your voice.”
I almost lost my temper.
“You just told me your son promised away property he doesn't own, and you're worried about my voice?”
She flinched.
“Marcus, please.”
I stepped closer.
“Who did he promise them to?”
She twisted the document in her hands.
“A business partner.”
“What business partner?”
“Someone helping him with an investment.”
I stared at her.
“An investment involving my daughter's house?”
Felicia said nothing.
That silence frightened me more than her shouting.
I reached for my phone.
“I'm calling Steven.”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.”
I pulled my hand away.
“Why?”
“Because he's under enough pressure.”
I looked at her in disbelief.
“Your son may have committed fraud, and you're worried about his stress?”
“He hasn't committed fraud!”
“Then tell me exactly what he's done.”
She began crying.
But after six years of marriage, I had learned something about Felicia.
Her tears weren't always a sign of sadness.
Sometimes they appeared when an argument wasn't going her way.
“He borrowed money,” she whispered.
“How much?”
She looked down.
“Two hundred thousand.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“From whom?”
“A private investor.”
“For what?”
“His business.”
Steven had spent the past two years talking about becoming a real estate developer.
He wanted luxury apartments, commercial buildings, and financial freedom before turning thirty.
I admired ambition.
But I had repeatedly told him that success required patience.
He didn't want patience.
He wanted shortcuts.
“What business?” I asked.
Felicia wiped her eyes.
“He's trying to purchase land outside Atlanta.”
“And he borrowed two hundred thousand dollars without collateral?”
She hesitated.
I knew the answer before she spoke.
“He used the properties as security.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“He used properties he doesn't own?”
“He thought you would eventually agree to transfer them.”
I stared at her.
“Felicia, that's not how ownership works.”
“He was desperate.”
“Desperate people don't get to steal from my daughter.”
She began crying harder.
“Please don't call him a thief.”
“Then stop describing theft.”
I walked into my study and closed the door.
My hands were shaking.
For six years, I had treated Steven as my own son.
I paid part of his tuition.
I helped him buy his first car.
I gave him opportunities at my company.
When he wanted to start a business, I offered to help him create a realistic plan.
He refused.
He told me he wanted to succeed without depending on me.
Apparently, that didn't include using my property.
I called my attorney, Rebecca Collins.
She answered immediately.
“Marcus?”
“Rebecca, I need your help.”
“What happened?”
I explained everything.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Do you have any documents showing Steven pledged those properties?”
“Not yet.”
“Then we need to find out exactly what he signed.”
I looked toward the closed door.
“Felicia knew.”
Rebecca sighed.
“That complicates things.”
I glanced at the envelope still lying on my desk.
“Did we remove her successfully?”
“Yes. Your amended living trust removes Felicia as successor trustee and appoints Maya, with an independent professional trustee as backup.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank God.”
Rebecca continued.
“But Marcus, remember that only the trust assets you control are affected. Maya's house was already hers. And any valid marital property rights Felicia has would need separate consideration.”
“I understand.”
“Do you want me to contact Steven?”
“Not yet.”
“Then don't sign anything else. And preserve every message you receive.”
After hanging up, I called Maya.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Dad!”
Her voice immediately softened something inside me.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
“Everything okay?”
I hesitated.
Maya was twenty-two.
She had recently started working as a pediatric nurse.
She lived in the Buckhead house with her best friend, Jasmine.
She was independent, hardworking, and proud of the life she was building.
I hated the thought of dragging her into another family argument.
But she deserved to know.
“Have you spoken to Steven recently?”
She went quiet.
“Why?”
My chest tightened.
“What happened?”
“Dad, I didn't want to upset you.”
“Maya.”
She sighed.
“Steven came by the house last Thursday.”
I sat down.
“What did he want?”
“He asked me to sign some documents.”
“What documents?”
“He said they were related to an insurance update.”
My pulse quickened.
“Did you sign?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank God.”
“He got really angry when I refused.”
“What did he say?”
Maya hesitated.
Then she answered quietly.
“He said Grandma never intended for me to keep that house forever.”
I gripped the phone.
“He said what?”
“He told me it was selfish to live there alone when he needed investment property.”
I felt anger burn through my chest.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because you and Felicia were already arguing about money.”
“Maya, you should never feel like you have to protect me from the truth.”
She became quiet.
Then she whispered, “Dad, there's something else.”
I sat forward.
“What?”
“After Steven left, I noticed a car parked across the street.”
“What kind of car?”
“A black SUV.”
“Did you recognize it?”
“No.”
“Did it leave?”
“Eventually.”
I swallowed.
“Has it come back?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
My blood went cold.
“How many times?”
“Three.”
I stood immediately.
“Maya, lock your doors.”
“Dad, you're scaring me.”
“Listen carefully. Don't open the door for Steven or anyone connected to him.”
“What's happening?”
I took a breath.
“I'll explain everything. But first, I need you to be safe.”
She promised to call Jasmine and remain inside.
I called Rebecca again.
Then I contacted a trusted security company to arrange a lawful safety assessment and exterior monitoring for Maya's property.
I had just finished speaking with them when Felicia entered my study.
Her makeup was smeared.
“Marcus, Steven's here.”
I stood.
“Good.”
She stepped in front of me.
“Please don't embarrass him.”
I looked at her.
“Your son threatened my daughter.”
“He was upset.”
“He tried to get her signature on property documents.”
Felicia froze.
“You talked to Maya?”
“Yes.”
Her face changed.
“You shouldn't have involved her.”
I stared at her.
“She owns the house.”
Felicia opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
I walked past her.
Steven stood in the living room.
He wore an expensive designer jacket and carried car keys I recognized.
They belonged to the luxury SUV I had helped him purchase.
“Marcus,” he said.
I stopped several feet away.
“Sit down.”
He frowned.
“What's going on?”
I looked directly at him.
“Tell me about the two hundred thousand dollars.”
His face went pale.
He looked toward his mother.
“Mom?”
Felicia began crying.
Steven cursed under his breath.
Then he turned back to me.
“You weren't supposed to find out yet.”
I felt something inside me break.
“Yet?”
He swallowed.
“I was going to fix everything.”
“How?”
He glanced toward the window.
“By selling the properties.”
I stared at him.
“You don't own them.”
Steven's expression hardened.
“Not yet.”
I stepped closer.
“What does that mean?”
He reached into his jacket.
Then placed his phone on the table.
A message was displayed on the screen.
It contained a photograph of Maya's house.
Beneath it were four words.
“Transfer completed by Friday.”
I looked at Steven.
“Who sent this?”
His lips trembled.
May you like
He lowered his voice.
“Dad, I think I borrowed money from the wrong people.”
