Chapter 8
I showed Daniel Brooks the Eastbridge Property Services records the next morning.
He studied the transfer.
Then opened his laptop.
"Marcus, where did you find this?"
"In the business statements."
He frowned.
"Thirty-eight thousand dollars?"
I nodded.
"Paid six days before Nia filed the custody petition."
Daniel leaned back.
"Interesting."
I crossed my arms.
"What does it mean?"
"We need to establish whether the payment was legitimate."
He clicked through several records.
"Eastbridge is registered to Patricia Coleman. According to public filings, the company provides property management and administrative services."
I swallowed.
"Patricia notarized the consent form."
"Allegedly, yes. We need to verify the exact records."
He nodded slowly.
"That overlap matters."
I stared at him.
"Can we prove they planned this?"
"Not yet."
I hated those words.
But Daniel had been right about something from the beginning.
Evidence mattered more than anger.
So I waited while he contacted the appropriate investigators and prepared formal requests for records.
Two days later, Andre called through his attorney.
He wanted to provide additional information.
I agreed to meet at Daniel's office.
When Andre arrived, he looked exhausted.
He sat across from me and placed a folder on the table.
"I found out what Nia was doing."
My chest tightened.
"What?"
He opened the folder.
Inside were emails.
Business proposals.
And a spreadsheet.
Andre pointed toward one column.
"She told me Northbridge Consulting was going to buy distressed properties."
I frowned.
"With what money?"
He looked ashamed.
"She said she had investors."
I stared at him.
"Did she tell you I was one of them?"
He shook his head.
"No."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Did you authorize the use of Marcus's personal information?"
Andre shook his head again.
"Never."
He took a breath.
"Nia said Marcus was only a silent partner on paper because they were married."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Did you question that?"
Andre looked down.
"I should have."
I stared at him.
Then he continued.
"Patricia was supposed to handle the paperwork."
Daniel studied the documents.
"Did you know she was notarizing family-related forms?"
Andre closed his eyes.
"No. I found out after the school confrontation."
I looked at him.
"Why was money transferred to her company?"
Andre swallowed.
"That's what scared me."
He pointed toward the spreadsheet.
"Some of those payments were described as relocation costs."
I stared at the numbers.
"Relocation for whom?"
Andre looked at me.
"For Nia and Noah."
My stomach dropped.
Daniel asked,
"Why would a consulting company pay those expenses?"
Andre shook his head.
"I don't know. Nia said the company would reimburse her because she was opening an office in Charlotte."
I stared at the spreadsheet.
The dates lined up.
The custody petition.
The business transfers.
The planned move.
And the suspicious consent form.
It seemed Nia had been using the business to fund a new life while putting my identity and our joint savings at risk.
But Daniel cautioned us against drawing conclusions before the records were verified.
He asked Andre to preserve all communications.
Andre agreed.
Then he looked at me.
"Marcus, I need to say something."
I waited.
"I thought getting Nia back would fix everything I messed up."
His voice cracked.
"I thought if we became a family, I could make up for leaving Noah."
I stared at him.
He looked ashamed.
"But I was wrong."
I said nothing.
Andre continued.
"You can't erase seven years by pretending they didn't happen."
I nodded slowly.
"No."
He swallowed.
"I want Noah to know me. But I don't want to take you away from him."
For the first time, I believed he might mean it.
Not because he sounded emotional.
Because his actions had finally begun matching his words.
That afternoon, I visited Noah at school.
He was sitting with friends when I arrived.
When he saw me, he ran across the playground.
"Daddy!"
I lifted him into my arms.
He laughed.
"You're squeezing me!"
I loosened my grip.
"Sorry, champ."
He grinned.
"Guess what?"
"What?"
"I made the school basketball team!"
I stared at him.
"Seriously?"
He nodded proudly.
"Coach said I have good instincts."
I laughed.
"Of course you do."
He wrapped his arms around my neck.
"Will you come to my games?"
My throat tightened.
"Every one I can, buddy."
He looked thoughtful.
"Mommy says Andre might come too."
I took a slow breath.
"How do you feel about that?"
He shrugged.
"I don't know him very well."
"That's okay."
He looked relieved.
"Can I take my time?"
I smiled.
"Absolutely."
He hugged me again.
And in that moment, I knew exactly what mattered.
Not winning an argument.
Not humiliating Nia.
Not proving that Andre was worse than me.
Protecting Noah's right to feel safe and loved.
That evening, Rachel called.
The court had approved a structured process for Noah's contact with Andre while longer-term arrangements were considered.
It would prioritize Noah's comfort and emotional needs.
I supported that.
Even though part of me was afraid.
Because fatherhood wasn't about owning a child.
It was about protecting him.
Over the following weeks, more financial evidence emerged.
The lender's investigation supported my claim that the personal guarantee had not been properly authorized.
Records indicated that documents had been submitted using information Nia controlled.
The notary's records were inconsistent.
And several transactions involving Northbridge and Eastbridge required further investigation.
Eventually, authorities opened a formal financial fraud case.
I was interviewed.
I provided bank statements.
Business documents.
Messages.
And everything I had preserved.
Nia retained an attorney.
She denied criminal wrongdoing.
But she stopped sending threats.
The legal process moved slowly.
Some days, I felt hopeful.
Other days, I woke up at three in the morning terrified that everything would fall apart.
Then one Friday afternoon, Rachel called.
"Marcus, we have an important development."
I sat down.
"What?"
"The court has scheduled the final hearing on Noah's long-term arrangements."
My chest tightened.
"When?"
"Next month."
I closed my eyes.
Rachel continued.
"We also received updated recommendations from the guardian ad litem."
I barely breathed.
"What do they say?"
She paused.
"That Noah's long-standing bond with you should be preserved, and that stability should take priority over either parent's preference for relocation."
I covered my face.
Tears slipped between my fingers.
For the first time, I felt like the future might be something other than loss.
But Rachel had one more thing to tell me.
"Nia has requested a settlement meeting."
I frowned.
"What kind of settlement?"
"She wants to discuss the divorce, property division, and Noah's parenting arrangements."
I stared at the wall.
"Why now?"
Rachel hesitated.
"She may recognize that the evidence doesn't support her original position."
I looked toward Noah's photograph.
The one from the basketball game.
The one I had held while my marriage collapsed.
Then I said quietly,
"I'll listen."
May you like
But I had one condition.
"Nobody gets to use Noah as a bargaining chip."
