Chapter 2 - The Message My Wife Erased
“Marcus, answer me!”
Nia's voice followed me down the front steps.
I didn't turn around.
My hands were shaking as I unlocked my truck.
I had faced financial disasters, dishonest contractors, and the darkest days of losing Danielle.
But nothing had prepared me for discovering that someone inside my own home might have been hurting my daughter behind my back.
Nia hurried onto the driveway.
“Whatever Jasmine told you, she's lying!”
I stopped.
Those words confirmed something important.
I hadn't told Nia what the message said.
Yet she already knew it could destroy her.
I turned toward her.
“How do you know Jasmine said anything about you?”
She froze.
“I just know how she is.”
“How she is?”
“She's always been jealous of me.”
I looked at the woman standing outside our beautiful house.
Her expensive clothes.
Her perfect hair.
Her carefully practiced expressions.
And for the first time, I wondered how much of our marriage had been a performance.
“Go inside, Nia.”
“Not until we talk.”
“We will.”
“When?”
“After I talk to Jasmine.”
I climbed into my truck.
Nia grabbed the door before I could close it.
“If you drive away, don't expect me to be waiting when you come back.”
I met her eyes.
“That may be the first reasonable thing you've said today.”
I gently pulled the door shut.
Then I drove away.
Three streets later, I had to pull into a parking lot.
My vision was blurred.
Not because I was afraid of Nia.
Because I was ashamed.
I took out my phone and opened Jasmine's message again.
Dad, I need to tell you something, but please don't get angry.
I stared at those words.
Jasmine had always started difficult conversations that way.
Even as a child, she worried more about upsetting me than about whatever was troubling her.
The message continued.
I know Nia told you I don't want to visit anymore. That isn't true.
My chest tightened.
She told me you were tired of paying for my education.
I covered my mouth.
She said you wanted me to stop asking you for help because you were trying to start a new family with her.
I read that sentence three times.
Then came the part that made my blood run cold.
Dad, she came to my apartment last month. She told me if I didn't stay away from you, she would make sure I lost my scholarship and my place at school.
There was more.
Nia had apparently claimed she could influence people connected to Jasmine's university.
She had threatened to tell me that Jasmine was irresponsible with money.
And she had warned Jasmine that any attempt to expose her would damage my marriage.
The final line broke me.
I don't want to lose you, Dad. You're the only parent I have left.
I bent forward until my forehead touched the steering wheel.
For years, I had promised Danielle that our daughter would never feel alone.
Yet Jasmine had been suffering in silence because she thought protecting my happiness mattered more than protecting herself.
I called her.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Hey, Dad.”
Her voice sounded cautious.
“Sweetheart, where are you?”
“At my apartment. Why?”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“I'm coming over.”
A pause.
“Did something happen?”
I swallowed.
“I read your message.”
Silence.
Then I heard her take a sharp breath.
“Dad, I didn't mean to cause trouble.”
“Jasmine.”
“Please don't fight with Nia because of me.”
I closed my eyes.
“Baby, listen carefully. You have done nothing wrong.”
Her breathing changed.
“Did she tell you I was lying?”
“She tried.”
“I knew she would.”
The sadness in her voice hurt worse than anything Nia had shouted.
“I'm twenty minutes away,” I said. “I'll explain everything when I get there.”
Jasmine hesitated.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Please come alone.”
I promised.
When I reached her apartment, I barely recognized the building.
It was an older complex near campus.
The parking lot needed repairs.
One exterior light flickered above the entrance.
I knew Jasmine wasn't living extravagantly, but I hadn't realized how modestly she was getting by.
She opened the door before I knocked.
My daughter stood in an oversized sweatshirt and faded jeans.
Her hair was tied into a messy bun.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I pulled her into my arms.
“No.”
She began crying.
“I'm so sorry, Dad.”
I held her tightly.
“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.”
Her body trembled against mine.
“I thought you didn't want me around anymore.”
Those words nearly brought me to my knees.
“Who told you that?”
She pulled away.
“Nia.”
I guided her to the sofa.
“Tell me everything.”
Jasmine wiped her cheeks.
“At first, it was little things.”
She explained how Nia made comments about her age, expenses, and supposed dependence on me.
When Jasmine visited, Nia would wait until I left the room before criticizing her.
Then came the phone calls.
Nia allegedly began answering my phone when I was working or showering.
She told Jasmine I was busy.
She claimed I was angry about financial requests.
Sometimes she told Jasmine I had specifically asked not to be disturbed.
I remembered several occasions when Nia had said Jasmine called but didn't want to talk.
My stomach turned.
“Why didn't you tell me sooner?”
Jasmine looked down.
“Because she said you'd choose her.”
I felt my throat close.
“She said you were finally happy again, and I was selfish for trying to ruin that.”
I reached for my daughter's hand.
“She was wrong.”
Jasmine nodded, but her expression told me she wasn't fully convinced.
Then she described the visit to her apartment.
Nia had arrived uninvited.
She had demanded that Jasmine stop contacting me about money.
When Jasmine refused, Nia reportedly threatened to contact university administrators with accusations about scholarship dishonesty.
“I didn't believe she could do anything,” Jasmine whispered.
“But then something happened.”
I leaned forward.
“What happened?”
“My financial aid office received an anonymous complaint.”
My entire body went still.
“What kind of complaint?”
“Someone claimed I'd submitted false information and was receiving money I wasn't eligible for.”
“Was that true?”
“Of course not.”
“I know, baby.”
“They opened a review anyway.”
I stared at her.
Suddenly, the five thousand dollars made much more sense.
Her scholarship payment hadn't simply been delayed.
It had been held during an investigation.
“Nia knew about the review?”
Jasmine nodded.
“She called me the next day.”
“What did she say?”
Jasmine lowered her voice.
“She said, ‘I warned you what would happen if you didn't listen.’”
A cold anger spread through me.
I wanted to call Nia immediately.
But Jasmine gripped my wrist.
“Dad, there's something else.”
I waited.
She walked to her desk and opened a drawer.
Inside was a thick envelope.
She handed it to me.
“I didn't know whether I should show you.”
I opened it.
There were printed emails, bank notices, and photographs.
Then I found a copy of a letter.
It appeared to carry my signature.
It claimed I had withdrawn financial support from my daughter because of concerns about her honesty.
I stared at the name at the bottom.
My name.
My signature.
But I had never written that letter.
“Where did this come from?” I asked.
Jasmine's voice shook.
“The university sent it to me during the review.”
I looked up.
“Who submitted it?”
She swallowed hard.
“Someone using your company email address.”
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
My company.
My identity.
My daughter.
Someone hadn't simply interfered with our family relationship.
They had apparently impersonated me.
I took a closer look at the document.
And that's when I noticed something that made my stomach drop.
The letter contained information from a private financial account that only two people in the world were supposed to know about.
May you like
Me.
And my wife.
