Chapter 4
I didn't sleep that night.
Not for one minute.
Instead, I sat in Daniel's office while he contacted our bank, our insurance providers, and the company's security team.
By midnight, my business credentials had been replaced.
The suspicious payment channels were frozen.
My personal accounts were placed under additional security.
And every document connected to Felicia's attempted authority was preserved.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I felt ashamed.
I had built a successful company.
Managed millions in construction contracts.
Negotiated with investors who would have taken advantage of one careless mistake.
Yet inside my own home, I had allowed someone to hurt my daughter.
The thought made me sick.
At two in the morning, I called Renee.
She answered immediately.
“Marcus?”
“Is Jasmine asleep?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Is she okay?”
Renee hesitated.
“She cried for a while.”
My throat tightened.
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether you were going to get sick because of all this.”
I pressed a hand over my eyes.
Renee continued gently.
“She thinks she caused it.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
“Marcus, you need to help her understand that Felicia's behavior wasn't her responsibility.”
“I will.”
Renee was quiet.
Then she asked something I wasn't prepared to hear.
“Can I ask you a difficult question?”
I stared at the desk.
“Go ahead.”
“How long has Jasmine been unhappy in that house?”
I couldn't answer.
Because I didn't know.
And not knowing was the worst part.
The next morning, I went to Renee's house before sunrise.
Jasmine was sitting at the kitchen table in her pajamas.
When she saw me, her face lit up.
“Daddy!”
She ran into my arms.
I held her tightly.
Then I sat beside her.
“Sweetheart, I need to ask you something.”
She looked nervous.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
I took her hand.
“Has Felicia been treating you badly for a long time?”
Her eyes dropped.
That was my answer.
“How long, baby?”
She stared at the table.
“Since I turned fifteen.”
Three years.
Three years of my daughter suffering inside my home.
My chest ached.
“What happened?”
Jasmine spoke quietly.
“At first, she just made comments.”
“What kind?”
“She said I was spoiled.”
I nodded.
“She said Mom's memory was the only reason you gave me special treatment.”
My throat tightened.
“She said I should stop talking about Mom because it made her uncomfortable.”
I closed my eyes.
Danielle's memory was sacred to Jasmine.
Her mother had died when she was six.
The photographs, stories, and small traditions we kept were how Jasmine held on to her.
Felicia had tried to take those too.
Jasmine continued.
“Then she started taking things.”
I opened my eyes.
“What things?”
“My clothes.”
I frowned.
“She said anything you bought belonged to the household.”
I stared at her.
“She gave some of my jackets to her nieces.”
My anger rose.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Jasmine's eyes filled.
“She said you'd think I was selfish.”
I swallowed.
“What else?”
“She took the necklace Mom left me.”
The room went silent.
Danielle's necklace.
A delicate gold heart pendant.
It had belonged to Danielle's grandmother.
Before Danielle died, she asked me to keep it for Jasmine until she was old enough to understand its meaning.
I gave it to Jasmine on her sixteenth birthday.
She cried when I explained its history.
“Where is it?” I asked.
Jasmine shook her head.
“Felicia said she put it somewhere safe.”
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
I felt sick.
I remembered Christmas morning.
Felicia had surprised Jasmine with an expensive bracelet.
I thought it was a thoughtful gesture.
Now I wondered whether it had been a distraction.
I took a slow breath.
“Anything else?”
Jasmine hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Sometimes she told me not to come downstairs when her friends visited.”
My heart broke.
“She said I embarrassed her.”
I stared at my daughter.
Beautiful.
Intelligent.
Kind.
A girl who volunteered at an animal shelter and tutored younger students.
A girl who had earned acceptance to her dream university.
And someone had made her feel unwanted in her own home.
I pulled her into my arms.
“I'm so sorry.”
She shook her head.
“Daddy, you didn't know.”
My eyes filled.
“I should have.”
She hugged me tighter.
“I didn't want you to be lonely again.”
That sentence nearly destroyed me.
I held her away gently.
“Jasmine, look at me.”
She raised her eyes.
“You never have to protect my marriage.”
Her lips trembled.
“You are my daughter. You were here before Felicia, and nothing she says can change what you mean to me.”
She began crying.
“I miss Mom.”
I hugged her.
“I know.”
“I wish she was here.”
My own tears finally fell.
“Me too, baby.”
We stayed like that for a long time.
Then I made a decision.
I called Daniel.
“I need to know where Danielle's necklace is.”
He listened.
Then said, “We'll include it in the property inventory and demand its return.”
“And Jasmine's car?”
“Derrick's dealership has been notified not to transfer it.”
I sat straighter.
“Is it there?”
“Yes.”
Relief washed over me.
“But Marcus, there's a complication.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The dealership claims Felicia signed paperwork stating she was authorized to act on Jasmine's behalf.”
I stared at the phone.
“She wasn't.”
“I know.”
“Then why would anyone accept it?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Because the buyer may have known the authorization was false.”
I closed my eyes.
Derrick.
“What's next?”
“The police are reviewing the documents. We have the original title records, and Jasmine is prepared to confirm she never authorized the sale.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was quietly eating breakfast.
For the first time in days, her face seemed peaceful.
I wasn't going to let anyone take that from her again.
By afternoon, investigators had collected the dealership's paperwork.
Derrick's attorney contacted Daniel.
He claimed everything was a misunderstanding.
But the documents suggested otherwise.
The car had been listed for resale before Felicia supposedly sold it.
And an unsigned buyer agreement showed Derrick had already arranged a transaction with another customer.
The plan appeared to have been prepared in advance.
Then Angela called.
“Marcus, we found something.”
I stood beside the window.
“What?”
“Security footage from your office.”
My pulse quickened.
“Of what?”
“Felicia entering your private office after hours.”
I frowned.
“She had access to the building.”
“Yes.”
Angela paused.
“But she wasn't alone.”
I felt cold.
“Who was with her?”
“Derrick.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Three nights before the first suspicious payment.”
I closed my eyes.
Angela continued.
“There's more.”
“What?”
“The camera shows Derrick carrying a small electronic device.”
I stared at the wall.
“What kind of device?”
“We don't know yet.”
My hands tightened.
Then Angela said something that made me sit down.
“Marcus, they stayed in your office for almost forty minutes.”
I remembered that night.
Felicia had told me she was attending a charity planning meeting.
I had been visiting a construction site in Atlanta.
She sent me photographs of herself at dinner.
Apparently, she had gone to my office instead.
Angela continued.
“When they left, Derrick was carrying a folder from your locked cabinet.”
I stopped breathing.
That cabinet contained confidential company agreements.
Insurance policies.
And copies of my estate planning documents.
I whispered, “Which folder?”
Angela hesitated.
“The one labeled Bennett Family Trust.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Because that trust contained more than money.
May you like
It held the assets I had promised would protect Jasmine if anything ever happened to me.
And now Felicia and Derrick had been looking directly at it.
