Chapter 3
I couldn't move.
For several seconds, I simply stared at my daughter.
Raymond slept in my bedroom.
The room I'd shared with Denise for six years.
The room where family photographs hung above our bed.
The room where I'd trusted my wife to be waiting when I came home.
I looked at Denise.
"Tell me she's mistaken."
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Denise."
She looked away.
I felt something inside me break.
Maya stepped closer.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
I turned toward her immediately.
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"I should've told you sooner."
I shook my head.
"Sweetheart, you haven't done anything wrong."
She looked relieved.
But I could see she didn't fully believe me.
I turned back toward Denise.
"How long?"
She whispered, "Marcus..."
"How long has Raymond been coming into my house?"
Her expression hardened.
"You've been gone all the time."
I stared at her.
"Don't."
"I was lonely."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Lonely?"
She raised her voice.
"You have no idea what it's like being here by myself!"
I looked at Maya.
Then my mother.
"By yourself?"
Denise's face tightened.
I continued.
"My daughter lives here. My mother lives here. And you've been treating both of them like obstacles."
She shook her head.
"That's not fair."
I pointed toward the documents.
"Neither is stealing from an elderly woman."
"I didn't steal!"
"Then where did the money go?"
She looked away.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "Into an investment."
My stomach tightened.
"What investment?"
"Raymond had an opportunity."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Raymond.
The same man connected to the hidden guardianship paperwork.
The same man apparently sleeping in my house.
And now my mother's savings were involved.
I took a breath.
"How much money did you take?"
Denise looked toward the ceiling.
"I don't know exactly."
"Then estimate."
She whispered, "Maybe forty thousand."
My mother gasped.
"Forty thousand?"
Denise flinched.
I looked at her.
"Mom?"
She was trembling.
"That's almost everything I saved after selling my house."
My chest tightened.
Two years earlier, Mom had sold the little home where I grew up.
She moved into our guest suite after struggling with the stairs.
She'd given us money for renovations.
Then kept the rest for medical expenses and emergencies.
She trusted Denise to help organize her online banking because she wasn't comfortable with computers.
I remembered thanking my wife.
Now the memory made me sick.
I picked up my phone and called my attorney.
Her name was Camille Brooks.
She'd handled my construction contracts for years.
I knew she could help us find the right legal specialists.
When she answered, I explained what we'd discovered.
Her voice became serious.
"Marcus, don't sign anything."
"I won't."
"Preserve the documents."
"I have them."
"And make sure your mother and daughter are somewhere they feel safe."
I looked at Mom.
Then Maya.
"I will."
Camille arranged an appointment for the next morning with a family-law attorney and a financial fraud specialist.
She advised us to contact the bank immediately about the disputed transfers.
I agreed.
After hanging up, I turned toward Denise.
"I'm taking Mom and Maya to my sister's tonight."
She looked stunned.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
She began crying.
"Marcus, please."
I felt nothing.
Or maybe I felt too much.
I couldn't tell.
"We'll deal with the house and finances through the appropriate process."
Denise stepped closer.
"You're choosing them over your marriage?"
I stared at her.
"You made that choice when you decided they were disposable."
Her face crumpled.
I walked upstairs.
Maya followed.
She stood in her bedroom doorway while I packed a small bag.
"Dad?"
I looked up.
"Yes?"
"Are you getting divorced?"
I stopped folding her sweater.
The question hurt.
I didn't want to lie.
"I don't know exactly how everything will happen yet."
She lowered her eyes.
"But things are going to change."
I nodded.
"Yes."
She swallowed.
"Is it because I found the envelope?"
I crossed the room immediately.
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"If I hadn't looked—"
"Maya, listen to me."
I placed my hands gently on her shoulders.
"Denise made these decisions. Not you."
She began crying.
I pulled her into my arms.
"I love you. Nothing changes that."
She hugged me tightly.
For several minutes, we stood there.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach drop.
"Grandma thinks Denise took her medicine too."
I pulled back.
"What?"
Maya wiped her cheeks.
"Not medicine from the bottle."
I frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Grandma says some of her pills disappeared."
My chest tightened.
Mom took medication for high blood pressure and a heart condition.
She kept everything organized in a weekly pill container.
"Did she tell Denise?"
Maya nodded.
"Denise said Grandma was forgetting things again."
I felt sick.
"How long ago?"
"Last month."
I took a breath.
Then went downstairs.
Mom was sitting on the couch.
I knelt beside her.
"Mom, Maya mentioned your medication."
Her eyes filled.
"I thought I was getting confused."
I shook my head.
"Tell me what happened."
She swallowed.
"Some pills were missing."
"From which container?"
"My weekly organizer."
I nodded.
"Did you take extra doses?"
"No."
She looked frightened.
"I don't think so."
I held her hand.
"We'll have your doctor review your medication and make sure you're okay."
She nodded.
Then whispered, "Marcus, am I losing my mind?"
The question broke me.
I squeezed her hand.
"Mom, we don't know why some things have been confusing. But we're going to find out. And you won't have to face it alone."
She began crying.
I hugged her.
An hour later, we left the house.
Denise stood near the staircase watching us.
She didn't try to stop us.
But as I carried the last bag outside, she spoke.
"Marcus."
I turned.
Her eyes were red.
"Raymond isn't going to let this go."
My stomach tightened.
"What does that mean?"
She shook her head.
"Nothing."
I stared at her.
Then she whispered, "You don't understand how much money he needs."
I looked at the house.
Then at my wife.
May you like
And suddenly, I realized the forty thousand dollars might only be the beginning.
Because whatever Raymond and Denise had been planning, my mother's savings were apparently not enough.
