Chapter 4
The attempted transfer was for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
I stared at the bank report as though the numbers might change.
The request had been rejected.
The account required authentication that the person submitting the instructions couldn't provide.
But the paperwork listed my name.
My address.
And a signature that looked almost exactly like mine.
I felt sick.
Rachel sat across from me.
"Marcus, this wasn't a mistake."
I shook my head.
"Denise did this?"
"We can't conclude that yet."
"She had access to my files."
"Yes."
"And she's trying to become Malik's financial guardian."
"Yes."
I leaned back.
"How long has she been planning this?"
Rachel didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
We contacted the bank's fraud department and requested that the account remain protected while the suspicious activity was investigated.
Rachel helped me preserve the documents and report the attempted unauthorized transfer.
Then I called Andre.
My brother arrived at my office thirty minutes later.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, his expression was dark.
"Marcus, I warned you about Denise."
I looked down.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
I stared at him.
Andre leaned forward.
"Remember Thanksgiving last year?"
I nodded.
Denise had argued with Malik because he wanted to sit beside me.
She accused him of deliberately excluding her.
"After dinner," Andre continued, "I heard her talking to Patricia."
My stomach tightened.
"What did she say?"
Andre hesitated.
"She said Malik was the biggest obstacle standing between her and a comfortable future."
I closed my eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
I looked up.
He was right.
Andre had told me Denise seemed overly interested in Malik's inheritance.
I'd gotten angry.
I accused him of disliking her because she wasn't Aisha.
The memory made me ashamed.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
Andre shook his head.
"Don't apologize to me."
He looked toward the family photograph on my desk.
"Just make sure that boy never has to be afraid in his own home again."
I nodded.
"I will."
That afternoon, I decided to review the security footage from our house.
We had cameras covering the front entrance, driveway, and main hallway.
I installed them after a burglary in our neighborhood.
I hadn't checked the recordings from Malik's birthday because everyone had witnessed what happened.
But now I wondered whether Denise had done anything else.
I opened the footage.
The party appeared on the screen.
Children ran through the living room.
Relatives laughed.
Malik stood beside his cake.
Then Denise shoved the stand.
I watched it again.
And again.
There was no accident.
No stumble.
No misunderstanding.
She looked directly at Malik before pushing it.
Then she smiled.
My stomach twisted.
I saved the recording.
Then I checked the hallway camera.
At 10:14 that morning, nearly two hours before the guests arrived, Denise walked toward my study.
She carried a small folder.
Patricia followed her.
They entered the room.
They remained inside for fourteen minutes.
I stared at the screen.
My study contained locked filing cabinets.
But the household financial paperwork was stored in an unlocked drawer.
I continued watching.
When they emerged, Patricia was holding several sheets of paper.
Denise looked toward the camera.
Then she reached up and adjusted a decorative vase beneath it.
The camera angle shifted slightly.
I felt cold.
She knew where the camera was.
She had been trying to move it.
I saved the footage immediately.
Then I checked other recordings.
Three days before the party, Denise had entered my study again.
This time, Victor Lane accompanied her.
I recognized him from his business website.
He carried a laptop bag.
They remained inside for nearly an hour.
I hadn't been home that afternoon.
Denise had told me she was meeting a decorator.
I felt as though the walls were closing in.
I called Rachel.
"Victor was in my house."
"What?"
"I have video."
"Send me a copy."
I did.
Then I sat alone in my office, staring at my wedding photograph.
Denise looked beautiful.
We were smiling.
Malik stood between us, holding a small bouquet.
He had been nine years old.
I remembered how hopeful he'd been.
He wanted someone to help with homework.
Someone to attend school plays when I was working late.
Someone who might love him the way Aisha had.
I'd promised him Denise would become part of our family.
Now I understood how badly I'd failed to recognize what was happening.
My phone rang.
Denise.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
"What do you want?"
Her voice was cheerful.
"Hello to you too, husband."
"Don't call me that."
She laughed.
"Still angry about the cake?"
I closed my eyes.
"What do you want?"
"I think we should discuss our marriage like adults."
"Through our attorneys."
"That sounds expensive."
I said nothing.
She continued.
"I don't want a divorce, Marcus."
"Then you shouldn't have terrorized my son."
Her voice hardened.
"You keep exaggerating everything."
"I have video of the party."
Silence.
Then she said, "And?"
"And I know Victor Lane was in my study."
Another pause.
When she spoke again, her cheerful tone was gone.
"You've been spying on me?"
"It's my security system."
"You're pathetic."
I took a breath.
"Don't contact Malik."
She laughed bitterly.
"You think you can erase me from his life?"
"He needs peace."
"And what about what I need?"
I looked at the photograph on my desk.
"You should have thought about that before you hurt him."
Denise became quiet.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus, your son has been keeping secrets from you too."
I sat upright.
"What are you talking about?"
She lowered her voice.
"Ask him what happened the night before his birthday."
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
That evening, I waited until Malik finished dinner.
Then I sat beside him on the couch.
"Buddy, can I ask you something?"
He looked nervous.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"No."
I smiled gently.
"Never assume you're in trouble just because I want to talk."
He nodded.
"Okay."
I took a breath.
"Did anything happen the night before your birthday?"
Malik went pale.
His eyes filled instantly.
I felt my chest tighten.
"Son?"
He looked toward the hallway.
Then he whispered, "Denise made me promise not to tell."
I moved closer.
"Tell me what?"
He began shaking.
"She took me to a man's office."
I stared at him.
"What man?"
May you like
Malik swallowed.
"She said his name was Victor."
