Chapter 6
The hardest part of that week wasn't the money.
It wasn't the forged signatures.
It wasn't even the possibility that my company might face legal problems because of Jasmine's actions.
The hardest part was watching Malik try to protect me.
He started making breakfast before his morning classes.
He offered to help with paperwork.
He asked whether I needed him to work more hours.
I could see what was happening.
My son was slipping back into the same role he had been forced to play for months.
The responsible one.
The quiet one.
The one who made himself smaller so nobody else would have to worry.
One morning, I found him at the kitchen table reviewing our household budget.
I stopped in the doorway.
"Malik."
He looked up.
"Morning, Dad."
"What are you doing?"
He shrugged.
"Just seeing where we can cut expenses."
I walked closer.
"Why?"
He hesitated.
"Because of the business."
I sat across from him.
Then gently closed the notebook.
"Son, I appreciate you."
He smiled faintly.
"But this is not your responsibility."
His eyes filled.
"I just want to help."
I nodded.
"I know."
Then I leaned forward.
"The best way you can help me is by finishing school and building the future you've worked for."
He looked down.
I continued.
"You do not have to rescue me."
His shoulders trembled.
For a moment, he looked like the little boy I remembered from after the divorce.
The child who worried every time Danielle and I argued.
The child who tried to make everyone happy.
I reached for his hand.
"I'm your father."
My voice broke.
"I'm supposed to be taking care of you."
He began crying.
I pulled him into my arms.
We stayed that way for a long time.
Then he whispered, "I thought if I needed too much, you'd choose Jasmine."
My heart shattered.
I held him tighter.
"I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."
He nodded against my shoulder.
I kissed the top of his head.
"Never again."
That afternoon, I met with Angela and the forensic accountant, Theresa Grant.
Theresa was thorough.
Direct.
And impossible to intimidate.
She examined the company accounts.
The J&J invoices.
The disputed loan documents.
The electronic signatures.
Then she looked at me.
"Marcus, we need to separate what we know from what we suspect."
I nodded.
She explained that payments to J&J Property Solutions had been made.
The amounts were documented.
The invoices were questionable.
But we still needed to determine who authorized each transaction and where the funds went.
The loan guarantee was disputed.
Its validity would need legal review.
I appreciated her precision.
After weeks of emotional chaos, facts felt comforting.
Then she showed me a timeline.
Jasmine and Jordan registered J&J Property Solutions nine months earlier.
Shortly afterward, payments began flowing from my business.
Several transfers moved from J&J into investment accounts.
Others went toward personal expenses.
Luxury purchases.
Vehicle payments.
Travel.
And debt repayments.
I stared at the records.
Then noticed something strange.
A large payment.
Forty-five thousand dollars.
Transferred to an account in another state.
I frowned.
"What's that?"
Theresa checked the details.
"The beneficiary is listed as Reynolds Holdings."
I shook my head.
"Never heard of it."
She nodded.
"We're still investigating."
I leaned closer.
The payment date caught my attention.
It was the same week Jasmine asked me to refinance part of our household debt.
I remembered the conversation.
She claimed Jordan needed a fresh start.
She said he was depressed.
That he felt embarrassed about not having a career.
She asked me to help him financially.
I refused.
Or at least, I thought I had.
Now I wondered whether she had found another way.
Then Angela asked something unexpected.
"Marcus, does Jordan have a biological father involved in his life?"
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because we're trying to understand the relationship between the parties receiving money."
I thought carefully.
"His father is named Terrence Cole."
Angela wrote it down.
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Somewhere in North Carolina."
I shrugged.
"Jasmine told me he abandoned them when Jordan was little."
Angela nodded.
"Have you ever met him?"
"No."
She looked at Theresa.
They exchanged a glance.
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Theresa pointed to the beneficiary information.
"Reynolds Holdings lists a contact number."
I stared at her.
"And?"
Angela leaned forward.
"The number appears connected to Terrence Cole."
I went still.
For a moment, I couldn't understand.
Jasmine's ex.
The man she claimed abandoned her.
Might be connected to an account receiving money from my business.
I felt cold.
"Are you telling me she sent money to her ex-husband?"
Angela corrected gently.
"We don't yet know who controlled the account or why the money was transferred."
I nodded.
But my mind was racing.
Jasmine told me Terrence disappeared.
That he never paid child support.
That Jordan barely knew him.
I had believed her.
I had felt sorry for them.
I had wanted to give Jordan the stability his father supposedly never provided.
Now I wondered how much of that story was true.
I looked at Angela.
"I want to know where the money went."
She nodded.
"We're working on it."
That evening, I called Danielle.
My ex-wife.
We had been divorced for nine years.
Our marriage hadn't survived the strain of my work schedule and our constant disagreements.
But we had learned to co-parent respectfully.
When she answered, she sounded surprised.
"Marcus?"
"Hey, Danielle."
"Everything okay with Malik?"
My chest tightened.
"He's safe."
She exhaled.
"Good."
Then her tone changed.
"What's going on?"
I told her about the money.
The lies.
Malik's warehouse job.
The financial hold.
The way Jasmine had treated him.
Danielle went quiet.
For a moment, I thought the call had dropped.
Then she whispered, "I knew something was wrong."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She explained that Malik had been unusually quiet during visits.
He stopped asking for help.
Stopped mentioning his expenses.
And became defensive whenever she brought up Jasmine.
"I asked him what was happening," Danielle said.
"He told me not to worry."
I closed my eyes.
She continued.
"Marcus, I didn't want to interfere in your marriage."
My throat tightened.
"I wish you had."
She sighed.
"So do I."
We sat silently for a moment.
Then I said, "I'm sorry."
Her voice softened.
"For what?"
"For making you feel like you couldn't tell me something was wrong with our son."
She was quiet.
Then whispered, "Thank you."
I wiped my eyes.
We agreed to communicate more openly.
No assumptions.
No avoiding difficult conversations.
Malik needed both of us.
And we needed to act like a team.
Later that night, Angela called again.
Her voice sounded serious.
"Marcus, we located Terrence Cole."
My heart pounded.
"And?"
"He is willing to speak with investigators."
I sat down.
"What did he say?"
Angela hesitated.
"He claims Jasmine has been sending him money for years."
I closed my eyes.
"Years?"
"Yes."
My stomach twisted.
Then she added something that made my blood run cold.
"Terrence says he never abandoned Jordan."
I stared at the wall.
Angela continued.
"He claims Jasmine prevented contact after their separation."
I couldn't speak.
May you like
Then she said the words that changed everything.
"And Marcus, according to Terrence, Jordan has known where his father was the entire time."
