Chapter 3
Vanessa didn't answer Daniel's call.
She turned the phone facedown.
But Marcus had already seen the name.
"Who is Daniel Price?"
She crossed her arms.
"I told you. He's helping with the salon."
Marcus looked at the forged signature.
"Then why is his name on a document involving my father's house?"
Vanessa stared at the floor.
I waited.
The silence stretched.
Then she whispered, "Because I needed financing."
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"You needed financing, so you forged Dad's signature?"
"I didn't forge anything."
I felt my chest tighten.
"That's not my signature."
She looked at me.
"Maybe you forgot signing it."
There it was again.
The suggestion that my age made my memory unreliable.
I gripped the arm of the sofa.
"Vanessa, I know what I signed."
She rolled her eyes.
"Arthur, you forget things all the time."
Marcus looked up sharply.
"Stop."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"Stop insulting my father."
I felt a painful knot form in my throat.
I should have been grateful.
Part of me was.
But I couldn't forget what Marcus had done only minutes earlier.
He'd believed Vanessa without listening.
He'd slapped me.
And now, because he finally had proof, he was defending me.
I wondered what would have happened if there had been no camera.
Would my son have thrown me onto the street?
Would he have called the police?
Would he ever have believed me?
The thought made my stomach turn.
I slowly lowered myself into a chair.
Marcus noticed.
"Dad, are you okay?"
I looked at him.
"My knee hurts."
His face changed.
"Did you twist it when I—"
He couldn't finish.
I nodded.
"When I stumbled."
He closed his eyes.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
I looked away.
Vanessa scoffed.
"Oh, now we're going to blame everything on me?"
Marcus turned toward her.
"You lied about him attacking you."
She folded her arms.
"Because he was trying to ruin our plans."
I looked up.
"What plans?"
Her expression shifted.
Then she seemed to realize she'd said too much.
Marcus stepped closer.
"Vanessa."
She looked toward the hallway.
"Nothing."
He held up the documents.
"These papers say someone intends to borrow three hundred thousand dollars using Dad's property."
My stomach dropped.
Three hundred thousand.
I'd spent decades paying off that house.
It was the home where my wife, Lorraine, and I had raised Marcus.
It was where we'd celebrated birthdays.
Where she'd taught him to bake cookies.
Where she'd taken her final breath after fighting cancer.
Vanessa wanted to risk all of that.
For a salon?
I stared at her.
"Why three hundred thousand?"
She didn't answer.
Marcus repeated the question.
"Why?"
Finally, she snapped.
"Because opening a proper business costs money!"
Marcus shook his head.
"We discussed a small salon. You said you needed fifty thousand."
"I found a better opportunity."
"Without telling me?"
She looked away.
I felt something wasn't right.
Three hundred thousand dollars was far more than she'd originally discussed.
And if she'd been willing to forge my signature, I doubted she'd told the truth about everything else.
I looked at Marcus.
"Call my attorney."
He turned.
"Who?"
"Patricia Greene."
I'd used Patricia for estate planning several years earlier.
She knew my property records.
And she knew I was careful about signing financial documents.
Marcus nodded.
Vanessa immediately objected.
"Why are we involving lawyers?"
I stared at her.
"Because someone put my name on papers I never signed."
She looked frightened.
Good.
For the first time, I wanted her to understand how serious this was.
Marcus called Patricia.
She asked several questions.
Then she told us not to sign, alter, or destroy anything.
She wanted copies of the documents and the original envelope.
She also recommended reporting the suspected forgery and contacting the relevant financial institution.
Marcus agreed.
When he ended the call, Vanessa was standing near the front door.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To my mother's."
He looked at her.
"Fine."
She stared at him.
"Fine?"
"Yes. We need some space."
Her expression hardened.
"You're choosing him over me?"
Marcus looked toward me.
I could see shame in his eyes.
Then he said quietly, "I should have listened to him before I touched him."
Vanessa laughed sharply.
"Unbelievable."
She opened the door.
Then stopped.
"You know what, Marcus? Your father has been controlling you your whole life."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"He paid for your college so you'd owe him."
Marcus looked stunned.
"He helped with the down payment so you'd never escape him."
My chest tightened.
I hadn't given my son money to control him.
I'd helped because I loved him.
Vanessa pointed toward me.
"And now he's destroying our marriage."
I slowly stood.
"Vanessa, I never asked Marcus to choose between us."
She looked at me with hatred.
"You didn't have to."
Then she slammed the door.
For several seconds, the house was silent.
Marcus stood motionless.
I looked at him.
He looked older than he had an hour earlier.
Finally, he turned.
"Dad."
I waited.
His voice cracked.
"I don't know how to apologize."
I touched my cheek.
"Neither do I."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I saw her crying. I thought—"
"You didn't think, Marcus."
He lowered his head.
I continued.
"You hit me."
He started crying.
"I'm sorry."
I wanted to hug him.
That instinct was still there.
He was my son.
But I couldn't pretend everything was fixed.
I took a slow breath.
"I need to go home."
Marcus looked alarmed.
"Dad, your knee—"
"I'll call Raymond."
Raymond was my younger brother.
He lived fifteen minutes away.
Marcus shook his head.
"Please don't leave like this."
I looked at him.
"Son, I need to feel safe."
Those words struck him.
I saw it.
He nodded slowly.
"Okay."
I called Raymond.
Then I packed my things.
Marcus helped carry my suitcase downstairs.
He didn't try to stop me again.
When Raymond arrived, he looked at my swollen cheek.
His face darkened.
"What happened?"
I hesitated.
Marcus stepped forward.
"I hit him."
Raymond stared at his nephew.
Then at me.
For a moment, I thought he might lose his temper.
Instead, he took my suitcase.
"Arthur, let's get you home."
I walked toward the door.
Marcus followed.
"Dad?"
I turned.
He looked broken.
"I love you."
I swallowed.
"I love you too."
His eyes filled with hope.
Then I added, "But love doesn't erase what happened."
He nodded.
I stepped outside.
As Raymond helped me into his car, my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number had sent a message.
It contained a photograph of my house.
My actual house.
Not Marcus's.
Below the picture were six words.
"Your property is already being processed."
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
"Tell Vanessa to stop asking questions."
I felt cold all over.
May you like
Someone had already started something involving my home.
And the person behind it wasn't finished.
