Chapter 2
"Jane, stop!"
I followed my wife into the hallway.
She had grabbed her handbag from the console table and was reaching for her car keys.
I stood several feet away.
"Where are you going?"
She didn't look at me.
"Somewhere I won't be interrogated in my own house."
I kept my voice steady.
"Malik just told me you made him sign something."
She stopped.
For one second, her fingers froze around the keys.
Then she turned.
"He's exaggerating."
"Then tell me what he signed."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"You're choosing your son over your wife."
I stared at her.
"This isn't a competition."
"It always has been."
The words came out so quickly that I wondered how long she had been holding them inside.
I looked at her.
"What does that mean?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
But I had already heard enough.
I returned to the dining room.
Malik was still sitting at the table.
His dinner was untouched.
I pulled out the chair beside him.
"Son, I need you to tell me everything."
He glanced toward the hallway.
"Is she gone?"
"No. She's getting her things."
He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
"For what?"
"For causing trouble."
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"You didn't cause this."
He wiped his face.
"She told me you would say that at first."
I frowned.
"What?"
"She said if you ever found out, you'd act surprised. Then you'd blame me for making her look bad."
I closed my eyes.
Jane had planned for the possibility of being exposed.
She had even prepared my son to distrust my reaction.
That realization frightened me.
"What did you sign?" I asked.
Malik hesitated.
"A loan."
I stared at him.
"What kind of loan?"
He pulled his phone from his hoodie pocket.
His hands were shaking as he opened an email.
Then he turned the screen toward me.
I read the subject line.
Personal Loan Agreement Confirmation.
The amount was twelve thousand dollars.
I looked at him.
"Malik, why would you borrow twelve thousand dollars?"
His eyes filled again.
"I thought I was helping the family."
I struggled to breathe.
"Explain."
He swallowed.
"Jane told me she had an emergency."
"What emergency?"
"She said your business was having problems."
My stomach tightened.
I owned a small commercial landscaping company.
Business had been steady.
We weren't wealthy, but we were comfortable.
"What did she tell you?"
"She said you were behind on taxes and might lose the company."
I stared at him.
"That's not true."
"I know that now."
His voice broke.
"But she said you were too proud to ask for help."
I leaned back.
Jane had used my business.
She had invented financial trouble.
And she had convinced my son to borrow money to protect me from a disaster that didn't exist.
"Did she receive the money?"
Malik nodded.
"She said she would make all the payments."
"Has she?"
He shook his head.
"Not for the last three months."
I took a slow breath.
"Have collectors contacted you?"
He nodded.
"They call almost every day."
I stared at him.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
His eyes filled with shame.
"Because I thought I'd already failed you."
That sentence hurt more than anything Jane had said.
I had spent twenty years trying to show Malik that he could always come to me.
His mother died when he was eleven.
After that, it had been the two of us.
I remembered teaching him to ride his bicycle.
Helping him with homework.
Sitting beside him through the nights when he cried for his mother.
I promised her before she died that our son would never feel alone.
Yet somehow, inside my own home, he had spent months carrying a burden too heavy for him.
I pulled him into my arms.
"Listen carefully. You have never failed me."
He began sobbing.
I held him until his breathing slowed.
Then I asked the question I was afraid to ask.
"Where did the twelve thousand dollars go?"
He stared at his phone.
"Jane said she transferred it to your business."
I looked at the loan details.
The disbursement had gone into Malik's checking account.
From there, a transfer appeared two days later.
Recipient: Jane Whitfield.
My wife's previous surname.
I felt sick.
"She transferred it to herself."
Malik nodded.
"She said she'd send it to you."
I took pictures of the statements with his permission.
Then I called my friend and attorney, Raymond Collins.
Raymond had helped me establish my business.
He answered immediately.
"Dennis, everything okay?"
"No."
My voice sounded strange.
"I need legal advice."
I explained the rent and loan.
Raymond listened without interrupting.
Then he asked, "Is Malik safe?"
I looked toward my son.
"He's with me."
"Good. Keep him with you."
"What can we do?"
"Preserve every message, document, and bank record. Don't sign anything else. We need to examine whether there was deception or coercion."
I nodded.
"And Dennis?"
"Yes?"
"Do not threaten Jane or try to force her out tonight. We need to handle the living arrangements properly."
I exhaled.
"Understood."
After the call, I found Jane standing in the doorway.
She had heard enough to know I was speaking with a lawyer.
"So that's what we're doing?" she asked.
I stood.
"What did you do with Malik's loan money?"
She crossed her arms.
"I used it for family expenses."
"Which expenses?"
"Groceries. Utilities. Things you never notice."
I pointed toward the statements.
"Eleven thousand eight hundred dollars was transferred into your personal account."
Her face tightened.
"I don't have to explain every purchase to you."
"You do when the money came from my son."
She looked at Malik.
"Tell your father I was helping you."
Malik shrank into his chair.
I stepped between them.
"Stop pressuring him."
Jane's eyes narrowed.
"You're making a mistake, Dennis."
I looked at her.
"No. I made the mistake when I trusted you without seeing how you treated my son."
She grabbed her handbag.
"Fine. I'll stay with Tasha tonight."
I frowned.
"Tasha lives here."
Jane froze.
Then she said something strange.
"Not anymore."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She looked toward the stairs.
"Tasha has somewhere else to stay."
I hadn't heard anything about Tasha moving.
"When did that happen?"
Jane didn't answer.
Instead, she walked to the front door.
Before leaving, she turned toward Malik.
"You really don't understand what you've done."
I stepped forward.
"That's enough."
She left.
I locked the door and returned to my son.
He was staring at his phone again.
"What's wrong?"
He turned the screen toward me.
A new email had arrived from the lender.
The message said his account was delinquent.
But that wasn't the worst part.
A second document was attached.
It showed a recent application for an additional credit account.
The amount requested was twenty-five thousand dollars.
The applicant was Malik.
The contact phone number belonged to Jane.
And the application had been submitted three days earlier.
I looked at my son.
"Did you apply for this?"
He shook his head.
"No, Dad."
My blood went cold.
Then another message arrived.
"Your application has been conditionally approved."
Malik looked terrified.
"Dad, I didn't do that."
I believed him.
May you like
And in that moment, I realized Jane wasn't simply taking money from my son.
She might be using his identity to obtain more.
