Chapter 7
For the first time in my life, I was afraid of what my wife might have done.
Not what Jasmine had done.
Not what Victor had done.
Nia.
The woman I'd trusted with my home, my savings, and my future.
I stared at the phone.
"Nia, did you plan everything?"
She began crying.
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"Then tell your attorney exactly what happened."
"I already did."
"All of it?"
She hesitated.
My stomach tightened.
"Nia."
Her voice broke.
"There's something I haven't told you."
I felt sick.
"What?"
She took a breath.
"I signed the original investor agreement."
I stared.
"What agreement?"
"The one that created Harbor Ridge."
I looked toward Raymond.
He leaned forward.
Nia continued.
"Jasmine said I needed to be the managing partner because investors trusted your name."
I swallowed.
"So you agreed?"
"Yes."
"Did you read it?"
"Not carefully."
I rubbed my forehead.
"What did it say?"
She began sobbing.
"That I was responsible for the funds."
The room became silent.
I looked at Raymond.
He held out his hand for the phone.
I handed it to him.
He spoke carefully.
"Nia, I'm Derek's attorney. You should discuss the agreement with your own counsel before answering more questions."
She went quiet.
Then whispered, "Okay."
Raymond ended the call.
I stared at him.
"How bad is it?"
He took a breath.
"Potentially serious."
I looked down.
"But we need the actual documents."
I nodded.
I was learning that fear filled gaps with terrible possibilities.
I needed facts.
Not guesses.
Not rumors.
Not excuses.
Over the following weeks, investigators began reviewing the financial records.
The lender examined the disputed loan authorization.
The affected investors provided statements.
The businesses connected to Jasmine and Victor were traced through available records.
Nia cooperated through her attorney.
She admitted her role in promoting the investment.
She acknowledged using my company's name without permission.
And she disclosed the financial arrangements she knew about.
But she also claimed Jasmine and Victor had misled her about the property's existence and the movement of funds.
I didn't know which parts were true.
I stopped trying to decide.
That was the investigators' job.
My job was to protect myself and the people who had trusted me.
I notified my business partners that my company had not authorized the Harbor Ridge investment.
I provided a factual statement.
I preserved relevant records.
And I worked with my accountant to make sure company funds had not been diverted.
Thankfully, our company accounts were intact.
But my reputation had suffered.
Several clients called.
One asked whether I was personally involved.
Another wanted reassurance before signing a new construction contract.
I answered honestly.
I explained that my name and company materials had been used without authorization and that the matter was under investigation.
Some people believed me.
Others remained cautious.
I understood.
Trust takes years to build.
And sometimes only one false promise to damage.
One evening, I sat alone in my office after everyone left.
The city lights glowed beyond the windows.
I stared at our wedding photograph on my phone.
Nia looked beautiful.
Happy.
Certain.
I remembered our honeymoon.
Our first apartment.
The night we bought our house.
I remembered promising we'd always be honest with each other.
Then I thought about the forged loan.
The false eviction story.
The investors.
The messages.
I felt tears rise.
I didn't want to hate my wife.
But I couldn't pretend our marriage was still safe.
The next morning, I met with a family law attorney.
I explained the situation.
She listened carefully.
Then asked what I wanted.
I stared at her.
"I don't know."
She nodded.
"That's okay."
I swallowed.
"I love her."
"That doesn't mean you have to remain in a relationship where trust has been broken."
I looked down.
"I know."
She explained the options for separation and divorce.
We discussed property, accounts, and financial obligations.
She advised me to avoid impulsive decisions and preserve all relevant records.
I nodded.
I needed time.
But I also needed boundaries.
That afternoon, I told Nia I wanted a separation.
We met in a quiet office with arrangements our attorneys had helped establish.
She looked exhausted.
Her pixie haircut had grown out slightly.
Her eyes were swollen.
When I spoke, she began crying.
"Derek, please don't do this."
I swallowed.
"I can't keep living like nothing happened."
She reached for my hand.
I gently pulled away.
"I'm not punishing you."
She shook her head.
"It feels like you are."
I looked at her.
"Then imagine how Anthony feels."
She stopped crying for a moment.
I continued.
"Imagine how the retired woman feels."
Her eyes filled again.
"Imagine how the couple saving for their first house feels."
Nia looked down.
"I know."
I took a breath.
"And imagine how I feel knowing my wife used my identity."
She began sobbing.
"I'm sorry."
I nodded.
"I believe you're sorry."
She looked up hopefully.
"But I'm not ready to trust you."
Her face crumpled.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, "Do you think we could ever fix this?"
I looked at her.
I wanted to say yes.
I wanted to promise that love could overcome anything.
But that would have been another lie.
"I don't know."
She nodded slowly.
I stood.
Then walked toward the door.
Before leaving, I turned back.
"Nia, whatever happens between us, you need to tell the truth."
She looked at me.
"I will."
I hoped she meant it.
But that evening, Raymond called with another development.
Investigators had located a bank account associated with Victor.
Several large transfers had been made shortly before he disappeared.
And the transaction history showed something unexpected.
A payment had been sent to an account in Nia's name.
Not Harbor Ridge.
Not a joint business account.
May you like
Her personal savings account.
The amount was fifty thousand dollars.
