Chapter 2
My father didn't answer immediately.
That frightened me.
Arthur Coleman was not a man who struggled to find words.
He had built businesses from nothing.
He had negotiated with people who could destroy companies with one signature.
But now he stood beside me, staring at my husband as though he had discovered something unforgivable.
"Dad?"
He finally looked at me.
"Sweetheart, you and the girls need somewhere comfortable to sit."
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice trembled.
"Not until somebody tells me what's happening."
Marcus stepped forward.
"Nia, please. Your father is making this look worse than it is."
Dad turned.
"Then explain it."
Diane crossed her arms.
"This is ridiculous. Marcus doesn't owe anyone an explanation."
Dad looked at her.
"Your son signed a financial agreement this morning involving my daughter's property."
My stomach dropped.
"My property?"
Marcus closed his eyes.
Dad held up the folder.
"The agreement concerns the Oakridge townhouse."
I stared at him.
The townhouse.
Our home.
The beautiful three-story house where Marcus and I had lived for two years.
The house where I had decorated a nursery for Amara and Ava.
The house where I had spent long nights folding tiny clothes and imagining our future.
"What about our home?"
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Marcus signed documents authorizing his mother's investment company to act in a transaction involving it."
I looked at Marcus.
"What transaction?"
He reached toward me.
I stepped back.
"Don't touch me."
His hand fell.
"Nia, I was trying to solve a temporary financial problem."
I almost laughed.
"A financial problem?"
Diane interrupted.
"Marcus made a responsible business decision."
Dad's eyes narrowed.
"By signing away rights he may not possess?"
I stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
Dad took a slow breath.
"The townhouse is held in a trust established for you."
My mouth fell open.
"A trust?"
He nodded.
"Your mother and I arranged it years ago."
I could barely process the words.
When Marcus and I moved into the townhouse, Dad had told me it was a wedding gift.
I refused to discuss the paperwork because I was still angry with him.
He arranged for an attorney to complete everything.
I assumed the house belonged to Marcus and me.
But apparently, I hadn't understood the ownership.
Dad continued.
"The trust provides the home for you. Marcus has no authority to pledge or sell it without the trustee's approval."
I looked at my husband.
"Did you know that?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
"Marcus?"
He rubbed his face.
"I thought the situation could be handled."
"What situation?"
Diane stepped forward.
"You're being hysterical."
Dad raised his hand.
"Do not speak to my daughter that way."
The hotel manager approached.
"Mr. Coleman, the private family lounge is ready."
Dad looked at me.
"Please, sweetheart. Let me get the babies somewhere quiet."
For the first time, I noticed that Ava was awake.
Her tiny mouth moved as she searched for comfort.
My heart twisted.
Whatever was happening between the adults, my daughters needed me.
I nodded.
"Okay."
Dad removed his suit jacket and placed it gently around my shoulders.
Then he guided me toward a private elevator.
Marcus followed.
Diane tried to come too.
Dad stopped her.
"You can wait."
She stared at him.
"You cannot order me around."
Dad looked toward the hotel manager.
"Mrs. Whitmore is not part of this private meeting."
The manager nodded.
Diane's face reddened.
"Arthur, you have no idea who you're dealing with."
Dad's voice was calm.
"I know exactly who you are."
The elevator doors closed before she could answer.
Inside the private lounge, a comfortable sofa waited beside enormous windows.
There were fresh towels, bottled water, and a quiet adjoining room where I could care for the twins.
A kind employee asked whether I needed anything.
"Just some privacy," I whispered.
She nodded and left.
I settled onto the sofa.
Dad sat beside me.
Marcus remained standing.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, I looked at my husband.
"Tell me everything."
He stared at the floor.
"My company has been struggling."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Some investments went badly."
"How badly?"
He swallowed.
"Very badly."
I felt my stomach tighten.
For months, Marcus had told me his construction consulting business was growing.
He bought expensive watches.
He leased a luxury car.
He talked about new contracts.
I had believed him.
"Are we in debt?"
He looked away.
"Yes."
"How much?"
He didn't answer.
Dad opened the folder.
"According to the records available to my attorneys, his business owes several creditors almost two million dollars."
I felt the room tilt.
"Two million?"
Marcus finally looked at me.
"Nia, I was going to fix it."
"With my house?"
He said nothing.
I shook my head.
"No. Tell me you didn't do that."
He stepped closer.
"Mom knew an investor who could provide financing."
Dad's expression darkened.
"That investor is a company controlled by Diane."
Marcus looked down.
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"Your mother was going to take our home?"
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that."
"Then how was it supposed to happen?"
Marcus's voice rose.
"I needed collateral!"
Amara startled.
I instinctively held her closer.
Dad stood.
"Lower your voice around the babies."
Marcus dragged both hands over his face.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at my daughters.
Then back at the man I had married.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He swallowed.
"Because you were pregnant. You were stressed. I didn't want to worry you."
I stared at him.
"You let me give birth believing we were financially secure."
His eyes filled.
"I thought I could fix everything before you found out."
Dad placed another page on the table.
"There's more."
Marcus immediately shook his head.
"Arthur, don't."
My blood ran cold.
"More?"
Dad looked at me with unbearable sadness.
"Sweetheart, the documents signed this morning weren't only about the townhouse."
I stared at him.
"What else?"
He turned a page toward me.
There was my name.
Nia Coleman Whitmore.
Underneath it was a signature.
My signature.
Except I had never signed that document.
I leaned closer.
My hands began shaking.
"Dad..."
Marcus backed toward the door.
I looked up.
"Why is my name on this?"
Dad's voice was heavy.
"Because someone submitted a document claiming you approved the transaction."
I stared at my husband.
"Marcus?"
He didn't answer.
I lifted the page.
May you like
"Did you forge my signature?"
And for the second time that afternoon, my husband couldn't look me in the eyes.
