Chapter 2
I thought I'd misheard him.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Malik was still pressed against my chest, his small hands gripping my shirt.
"What papers, buddy?"
He looked up at me.
His eyes were swollen from crying.
"The papers to send me away."
My entire body went cold.
"What are you talking about?"
Malik hesitated.
Then he looked toward the staircase.
"Denise said you were tired of taking care of me."
I felt as though someone had punched me.
My son was twelve years old.
He had already lost his mother.
And now he believed I was preparing to abandon him.
I gently held his shoulders.
"Malik, listen to me carefully."
He nodded.
"I have never signed anything to send you away. I would never do that."
His lips trembled.
"She said you didn't want me asking questions."
My sister Angela knelt beside us.
"Sweetheart, why didn't you tell your dad?"
Malik wiped his face.
"Because Denise said he'd get mad."
"At you?"
He nodded.
I closed my eyes.
I remembered every time Malik had become unusually quiet when Denise entered a room.
Every time he'd refused to ask me for something in front of her.
Every time he'd apologized for things that weren't his fault.
I'd noticed.
But I'd accepted Denise's explanation that he was simply adjusting to having a stepmother.
Now those memories made me sick.
"Malik," I said, "you are never in trouble for telling me the truth."
He began crying again.
I pulled him close.
Behind us, guests were quietly collecting their belongings.
My mother approached.
"Marcus, take him somewhere peaceful. We'll handle the mess."
I shook my head.
"I don't want him thinking his birthday is over."
Angela touched my shoulder.
"Then let's save it."
Within minutes, my family moved the broken cake aside.
My cousin ordered cupcakes from a nearby bakery.
The children gathered in the backyard.
Someone turned on Malik's favorite music.
And although the celebration was smaller and quieter, I watched my son begin smiling again.
But my mind remained upstairs.
Denise had threatened me.
She'd frightened my son.
And now I needed to know what else she'd done.
I asked Angela to stay with Malik while I went upstairs.
Our bedroom door was open.
Denise stood beside the closet, throwing clothes into a designer suitcase.
She looked up.
"Come to apologize?"
I stared at her.
"Did you tell Malik I was sending him away?"
She stopped packing.
"What?"
"Answer me."
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, that."
My stomach tightened.
"That?"
"He was being dramatic."
"You told my twelve-year-old son I didn't want him."
Denise slammed a drawer.
"I told him there are consequences when children disrespect adults."
I took a step closer.
"What papers were you talking about?"
She looked away.
"Nothing."
"Denise."
She turned sharply.
"Maybe I wanted him to understand that this house doesn't revolve around him."
I felt my hands trembling.
I forced myself to remain calm.
"You deliberately made him think I would abandon him."
She shrugged.
"He needed discipline."
I stared at her.
Then I noticed something on the nightstand.
A folder.
Cream-colored.
Partially hidden beneath her handbag.
I recognized the logo.
Harrison Family Legal Services.
I reached toward it.
Denise moved quickly.
"Don't touch that."
I stopped.
"Why?"
"It's private."
I looked at her.
"We're married."
"That doesn't mean you own everything."
I picked up the folder.
Inside was a document titled:
PETITION FOR TEMPORARY RESIDENTIAL PLACEMENT OF MINOR CHILD.
My vision blurred.
Malik's name appeared on the first page.
So did mine.
I flipped to the last page.
There was a signature resembling my own.
But I had never signed it.
"What is this?"
Denise looked furious.
"Give that back."
"Did you forge my signature?"
She lunged for the papers.
I stepped aside.
"Marcus, you're making this into something it isn't."
I read the document again.
It proposed placing Malik in a residential behavioral program several hours away.
The stated reason was severe behavioral instability and escalating aggression.
I felt sick.
Malik wasn't aggressive.
He was gentle.
Sensitive.
A little shy.
He helped younger children with homework.
He cried when animals were injured.
The idea that anyone could describe him as dangerous was horrifying.
"Who prepared this?"
Denise folded her arms.
"A consultant."
"What consultant?"
She refused to answer.
I looked at the signature again.
"Did you submit it?"
Her silence terrified me.
"Denise, did you submit this paperwork?"
Finally, she snapped.
"I was trying to save our marriage!"
I stared at her.
"By sending my son away?"
"He needs more attention than you can give him!"
"He's twelve!"
"And I'm your wife!"
Her voice rose.
"I shouldn't have to compete with a dead woman and her child!"
The words struck me harder than anything else she'd said.
Malik's mother, Aisha, had died after a sudden illness.
She had been kind.
Patient.
A wonderful mother.
And Denise had spent three years resenting a woman who wasn't alive to defend herself.
I closed the folder.
"Our marriage is over."
Denise laughed.
"You don't get to decide that alone."
"I can decide whether my son lives with someone who frightens him."
She stepped toward me.
"You're going to regret humiliating me."
I didn't respond.
I took the folder and walked downstairs.
In the hallway, my phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number appeared.
I answered.
"Mr. Johnson?"
"Speaking."
"This is Emily Harrison from Harrison Family Legal Services."
My heart began pounding.
"Yes?"
"I'm calling because we received a concerning request involving your son."
I gripped the phone.
"What request?"
The woman hesitated.
"Someone claiming to act with your authorization contacted our office about placing Malik in residential care."
I stared at the folder in my hand.
"That wasn't me."
There was a pause.
"Mr. Johnson, we suspected something was wrong."
"Why?"
"Because the person who contacted us also asked how quickly a child could be removed from his father's home without discussing it with him first."
My knees nearly gave way.
"Who contacted you?"
The woman answered quietly.
"Your wife."
I closed my eyes.
Then she said something even worse.
"And Mr. Johnson, there's another reason I called."
I waited.
"We received a second document this morning."
May you like
"What document?"
"A request concerning the ownership and control of your son's inheritance."
