Chapter 4
I put the call on speaker.
Sarah shot to her feet.
“Don’t.”
The man heard her.
“Oh, she’s there.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“Name’s Damon.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
I remembered the letter D in the text messages.
“You’re the person she owes eighteen thousand dollars.”
He laughed.
“Eighteen?”
My stomach tightened.
“That was last month.”
I stared at Sarah.
“How much now?”
Damon answered for her.
“Thirty-two thousand.”
Jordan whispered, “Jesus.”
Sarah started shaking her head.
“He’s lying.”
“Am I?”
Damon sounded amused.
“Tell your husband about the money you borrowed in April.”
Sarah said nothing.
“Tell him about June.”
“Stop.”
“And August.”
“Stop!”
I stepped toward her.
“How much?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I don’t know.”
Again.
She never knew.
Not when it was my money.
Not when it was Michael’s future.
“What does she owe you for?” I asked.
“Investment capital.”
Sarah snapped, “It wasn’t like that.”
Damon continued.
“She wanted money for an online resale business. Luxury bags, shoes, electronics.”
I remembered boxes arriving constantly.
Sarah told me she was helping a friend run a boutique.
“She lost it?”
“Most of it.”
“How?”
Damon chuckled.
“Your wife likes expensive inventory and bad decisions.”
Sarah screamed toward the phone.
“You said the merchandise was authentic!”
Jordan looked at her.
“What merchandise?”
Damon laughed again.
“There you go.”
My head hurt.
I wanted this man off the phone.
“What do you want?”
“My money.”
“She doesn’t have it.”
“Then she shouldn’t have used your house as reassurance.”
I froze.
“What?”
Sarah’s entire body went still.
I stared at her.
“What did you tell him?”
Nothing.
Damon answered.
“She said if the business failed, she could get money from the house.”
My voice dropped.
“The house is mine.”
Technically, Sarah had marital rights from our six-year marriage, but I had bought the property with Danielle almost twenty years earlier.
Sarah’s name had never been on the deed.
Damon sounded surprised.
“Interesting.”
I looked at her.
“You offered him my house?”
“I didn’t offer it.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him we had equity.”
“We?”
She wiped her face.
“We’re married.”
“That does not make my dead wife’s house collateral for your secret debt.”
Michael flinched beside me.
I regretted saying it like that immediately.
The house had been his mother’s too.
Damon interrupted.
“I don’t care whose house it is. I care about getting paid.”
I lowered my voice.
“Do not contact my family again.”
“That depends on Sarah.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
Not from fear of Damon.
From how much I still did not know.
I called the police.
This time Sarah did not try to stop me.
Two officers arrived.
Then a detective after I explained the identity theft involving Michael.
Detective Renee Brooks sat at our dining table.
The same table where Michael had been forbidden to eat.
She listened carefully.
I gave her the recordings.
The photos.
The credit account.
The messages involving Damon.
Sarah sat across from us with her arms wrapped around herself.
Detective Brooks looked at her.
“Did you open this account using your stepson’s information?”
Sarah whispered, “I can explain.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
Michael looked away.
Jordan covered his mouth.
Detective Brooks continued.
“Did Michael authorize you?”
“He’s a minor.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“No.”
I felt sick.
Sarah admitted using Michael’s Social Security number and date of birth.
She claimed she thought she could build credit “for him.”
Detective Brooks stared at her.
“You charged more than seven thousand dollars.”
Sarah said nothing.
“You sold property belonging to him?”
“It was jewelry.”
“That belonged to whom?”
“My husband’s late wife.”
“Was it given to Michael?”
“Yes.”
“Did he authorize the sale?”
“No.”
Every answer sounded worse.
I watched my wife become a stranger.
Then Detective Brooks asked about Damon.
Sarah’s breathing changed.
“His real name isn’t Damon.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Online.”
“For what?”
“He loaned me money.”
“Legally?”
Sarah hesitated.
“No.”
The detective leaned back.
“How does he collect?”
“I don’t know.”
“Has he threatened you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
Sarah looked toward the boys.
Detective Brooks understood.
“Would you like to speak privately?”
“No.”
Sarah shook her head.
“They deserve to know.”
For once, I agreed.
“He came here once.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
I stared at her.
“To this house?”
“Yes.”
“Were the boys home?”
Sarah looked at Michael.
He went pale.
I turned.
“You saw him?”
Michael nodded.
“He came while Jordan was at practice.”
“What happened?”
Sarah answered.
“He wanted money.”
“Did he threaten Michael?”
“No.”
Michael whispered, “Yes.”
Sarah looked at him.
“He didn’t touch you.”
“He asked if Dad would pay more if something happened to me.”
The room changed.
Detective Brooks sat forward.
“What exactly did he say?”
Michael swallowed.
“He looked at me and said, ‘Your dad seems like the kind of man who’d pay fast if his boy got scared.’”
My vision darkened.
I stood.
“Dad.”
Michael grabbed my arm.
Detective Brooks looked at me.
“Sit down, Mr. Reed.”
I did.
Barely.
“How did you respond?” she asked Michael.
“I went upstairs and locked my door.”
“And Sarah?”
Michael looked at her.
“She told me not to tell Dad.”
I turned slowly.
“You told him not to tell me?”
Sarah was crying.
“I was afraid you’d leave.”
I stared at her.
“You let a man threaten my son in my house and your concern was whether I’d leave you?”
“I was trying to fix it.”
That sentence had become meaningless.
Detective Brooks asked Sarah to provide every message, phone number, and payment connected to Damon.
She agreed.
The police could not immediately arrest someone whose identity they did not know.
But now there was a report.
Identity theft.
Financial fraud.
Threats.
Potential extortion.
Sarah was advised not to contact Damon.
I was advised to secure the house.
But I no longer wanted either boy there.
Jordan quietly asked, “Can I come with you?”
Sarah looked at him.
“Jordan.”
He did not look back.
I answered carefully.
“If your mother agrees for tonight, yes.”
“I’m his mother.”
Sarah’s voice shook.
“He stays with me.”
Jordan finally faced her.
“I don’t want to.”
Pain crossed her face.
“Because of him?”
She pointed toward me.
Jordan shook his head.
“Because of you.”
Sarah looked destroyed.
I felt no satisfaction.
This was not revenge.
This was a family collapsing under truths that had been hidden too long.
Eventually Sarah agreed that Jordan could spend the night with us.
We packed.
Before leaving, Michael went upstairs.
When he returned, he carried the cedar box.
I froze.
“You found it?”
He nodded.
“She put it in the garage.”
He opened it.
Half empty.
The letters remained.
Most photographs remained.
The jewelry was gone.
But at the bottom was something I had never seen.
A sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
MARCUS.
Danielle’s handwriting.
I could not breathe.
“Where did that come from?”
Michael shook his head.
“It was under the lining.”
Sarah stared at it.
“I never saw that.”
I believed her.
For once.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter from my first wife.
Seven years dead.
Her words were simple.
Marcus,
If Michael ever feels like he has to earn his place in someone’s life, remind him that he was loved before he even took his first breath.
And if you ever marry again, please choose someone who understands that loving you also means loving him.
I stopped reading.
My vision blurred.
Michael looked at me.
“Dad?”
I pulled him into my arms.
Danielle had written the warning years before Sarah ever entered our lives.
And I had failed it.
Then Jordan spoke quietly behind us.
“There’s something else you should know.”
I turned.
He looked terrified.
“My mom didn’t just open a card in Michael’s name.”
May you like
He swallowed.
“She opened one in mine too.”
