Chapter 8
“I hated the way she reminded you of Danielle.”
Those were Felicia's first words.
I sat across from her in a conference room at Daniel's office.
Her attorney sat beside her.
Daniel sat beside me.
A recording device rested in the center of the table, with everyone informed and consenting to the meeting.
Felicia looked different.
No designer jewelry.
No carefully styled braids.
No arrogant smile.
She wore a plain gray blouse.
Her face looked tired.
But I refused to confuse exhaustion with remorse.
I stared at her.
“You hated Jasmine because she looked like her mother?”
Felicia lowered her eyes.
“She has Danielle's smile.”
I felt a bitter ache in my chest.
“Yes.”
“And every time you looked at her, you softened.”
I said nothing.
Felicia's voice trembled.
“You never looked at me that way.”
I stared at her.
“You were my wife.”
She laughed sadly.
“But Danielle was your first love.”
I shook my head.
“Danielle was my late wife. I married you because I believed we could build a life together.”
Felicia wiped her cheeks.
“I know.”
“Then why punish Jasmine?”
She looked away.
“I was jealous.”
The words hung between us.
I felt no satisfaction hearing them.
Only sadness.
Felicia continued.
“At first, I tried to be good to her.”
I remembered those early years.
Family vacations.
Birthday celebrations.
Felicia helping Jasmine with homework.
I had believed we were happy.
“But as Jasmine got older, she started looking more like Danielle.”
Felicia's voice broke.
“She talked about her all the time.”
I stared at her.
“Because Danielle was her mother.”
“I know that now.”
I leaned forward.
“You knew it then.”
Felicia flinched.
I continued.
“You knew she lost her mother when she was six.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“You knew those photographs and memories were precious.”
She nodded.
“And you tried to take them away.”
Felicia began crying.
I didn't comfort her.
For years, my daughter had cried alone.
Now Felicia could face the consequences of her choices.
After several moments, Daniel asked her about the car.
Felicia took a shaky breath.
“I wanted Jasmine to leave.”
My chest tightened.
“She was going to college.”
“Yes.”
“Then why wasn't that enough?”
Felicia looked at me.
“Because you kept saying she'd always have a room in the house.”
I stared at her.
“She's my daughter.”
“I wanted us to start over.”
“With my child erased from our lives?”
Felicia covered her face.
“I know how terrible it sounds.”
“It doesn't just sound terrible.”
My voice hardened.
“It was terrible.”
She nodded.
Then Daniel asked about Derrick.
Felicia admitted she had discussed selling the car with him.
She acknowledged that Jasmine hadn't authorized the transaction.
She also admitted asking Derrick to create documents intended to make the sale appear legitimate.
My hands tightened.
“And the company money?” I asked.
She looked toward her attorney.
After a quiet exchange, she answered.
“I thought Derrick could invest it.”
I stared at her.
“Invest stolen money?”
She winced.
“I convinced myself we'd pay it back.”
“How?”
She said nothing.
“Felicia, how?”
Finally, she whispered, “Derrick promised his business would turn around.”
I shook my head.
“So you risked my employees' livelihoods?”
She began crying again.
“I wasn't thinking clearly.”
I leaned back.
“No. You were thinking about what you wanted.”
Silence filled the room.
Then Daniel asked about the forged medical documents.
Felicia's expression changed.
She looked frightened.
“My brother prepared those.”
“Did you know they were false?” Daniel asked.
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“And you submitted them?”
She nodded.
I closed my eyes.
The woman I had trusted with my health information had allowed false claims about my mental capacity to be circulated.
She had tried to turn my medical history into a weapon.
I took a slow breath.
“Why?”
Felicia whispered, “I thought if I controlled the finances, you couldn't stop me.”
I stared at her.
There was the truth.
Not love.
Not family.
Control.
I looked at Daniel.
“I've heard enough.”
Felicia suddenly leaned forward.
“Marcus, please.”
I stood.
She began crying harder.
“I know I made mistakes.”
I turned back.
“Mistakes?”
She looked at me.
“Please don't do this.”
I felt a deep sadness.
“Felicia, you made choices.”
She shook her head.
“I still love you.”
I stared at her.
For seven years, I had believed those words.
Now they sounded empty.
“You don't destroy someone's child because you love them.”
She covered her mouth.
I continued.
“You don't steal from the family you're supposed to protect.”
Tears ran down her cheeks.
“And you don't use a dead mother's memory to hurt her daughter.”
Felicia lowered her head.
I looked at her one last time.
“Whatever happens next, Jasmine will never be required to forgive you.”
She cried silently.
“And neither will I.”
I left the room.
Outside, I leaned against the hallway wall.
For several minutes, I couldn't move.
Daniel eventually joined me.
“You okay?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He waited.
I looked at him.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“I trusted her.”
“I know.”
My voice broke.
“And she hated my daughter.”
Daniel placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Marcus, you can't change what she did.”
I stared at the floor.
“But you can protect Jasmine now.”
I nodded.
For the first time, I understood that ending my marriage wasn't a failure.
It was a responsibility.
The following weeks brought difficult legal decisions.
The divorce proceedings moved forward.
Felicia's financial misconduct became part of the evidence.
Temporary orders protected my property and established clear boundaries.
Criminal investigators continued reviewing the unauthorized transfers and forged documents.
I cooperated fully.
But I kept Jasmine away from unnecessary details.
She deserved to focus on graduation.
On college.
On the future she had worked so hard to earn.
Then something wonderful happened.
Northwestern invited Jasmine to attend an admitted-student event.
She stood in the kitchen holding the invitation.
“Daddy?”
I looked up.
“Yes?”
“Can we go?”
I smiled.
“Absolutely.”
Her face lit up.
“Really?”
“Of course.”
She threw her arms around me.
For the first time in months, her excitement felt completely free of fear.
We traveled to Illinois the following weekend.
Jasmine walked across the campus with wide eyes.
She visited the architecture facilities.
Met professors.
Talked to students.
And asked more questions than I could count.
I watched her confidence slowly return.
At one point, she stopped outside a beautiful old building.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I think I can really do this.”
I smiled.
“Of course you can.”
She shook her head.
“No. I mean without being scared all the time.”
My throat tightened.
I put an arm around her shoulders.
“Then that's exactly what you're going to do.”
She smiled.
Then she took a photograph of us together.
Two people.
A father and his daughter.
Standing at the beginning of something new.
That evening, while we ate dinner near campus, Jasmine looked at me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think you'll ever get married again?”
I hesitated.
“I don't know.”
She nodded.
Then she smiled gently.
“If you do, I hope she's kind.”
I looked at her.
“So do I.”
She reached across the table.
“And I hope she loves you for who you are.”
My eyes filled.
I squeezed her hand.
“That's all I want for you too.”
May you like
We sat together, smiling.
And for the first time since I found that empty parking space, the future felt bigger than the betrayal behind us.
