Chapter 6 - The Night I Refused to Be Afraid
I had never been more afraid than I was that night.
Not when Danielle died.
Not when my company almost collapsed during the recession.
Not even when Jasmine was hospitalized with pneumonia as a little girl.
Because those tragedies hadn't involved someone deliberately targeting my child.
This did.
I held the photograph in my hands.
My daughter had been followed.
Someone had watched her leave the library.
Someone had delivered a threat to her home.
And whoever did it expected fear to keep us silent.
“Dad?”
Jasmine stood beside me.
“Please say something.”
I looked into her frightened eyes.
Then I made a decision.
“You're not staying here tonight.”
She swallowed.
“Where am I going?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Dad, I have classes tomorrow.”
“Your classes can wait until we speak with the university.”
She looked down.
“I can't keep missing school.”
I understood.
Jasmine had fought too hard for her education to lose it now.
But her safety came first.
I called Raymond.
When I explained the photograph, his voice became serious.
“Don't discard the envelope. Handle it as little as possible. We're reporting this.”
I agreed.
He advised documenting how Jasmine received it and contacting law enforcement.
I also called campus security.
Within an hour, two officers arrived to take a report.
Jasmine showed them the photograph.
She explained seeing Adrian's car outside the building.
She described Nia's earlier threats.
The officers recorded the details and discussed practical safety precautions.
I knew an accusation wasn't proof.
I also knew we couldn't afford to ignore the warning.
After they left, I helped Jasmine pack an overnight bag.
I didn't take her to my house.
I didn't take her to a hotel associated with my company.
Instead, I called my older sister, Patricia.
Patricia lived outside the city with her husband, Samuel.
She was a retired school principal.
She had helped raise Jasmine after Danielle died.
And she had never been afraid to tell me when I was making a mistake.
She answered immediately.
“Marcus?”
“Pat, I need help.”
Her tone changed.
“What's wrong?”
I told her enough to explain the danger.
She didn't hesitate.
“Bring my niece here.”
Forty minutes later, Patricia opened her front door before we reached the porch.
She pulled Jasmine into her arms.
“My baby.”
Jasmine started crying.
Patricia looked over her shoulder at me.
Her face was full of anger.
“Marcus, come inside.”
We sat around her kitchen table.
Samuel made tea while I explained what had happened.
Patricia listened in silence.
When I finished, she shook her head.
“I never trusted that woman.”
I sighed.
“Patricia.”
“No. You're going to hear me.”
She leaned forward.
“I saw how Nia looked at Jasmine during your wedding reception.”
I frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
“Jasmine gave a speech about Danielle. It was beautiful.”
I remembered.
My daughter had stood before our guests and thanked Nia for making me smile again.
I had cried.
So had half the room.
Patricia continued.
“When Jasmine mentioned her mother, Nia stopped smiling.”
I stared at my sister.
“She looked furious, Marcus. Not sad. Not uncomfortable. Furious.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
I remembered an argument shortly after the wedding.
Patricia had warned me that Nia seemed possessive.
I accused her of being unfair.
I had said she was comparing Nia to Danielle.
Now the memory made me ashamed.
“You were right,” I whispered.
Patricia reached across the table.
“I didn't want to be right.”
That night, Jasmine slept in the guest room.
Samuel checked the doors and exterior lights.
I stayed awake in a chair downstairs.
At two in the morning, my phone rang.
Nia.
I declined.
She called again.
And again.
Then she sent a message.
Marcus, please. Adrian is out of control.
I sat upright.
Another message appeared.
I didn't know he would threaten Jasmine.
My heart started racing.
I immediately saved the messages.
Then my phone rang again.
This time, I answered.
“Nia.”
She was crying.
“Marcus, please listen.”
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Is Adrian there?”
“No.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
She took several shaky breaths.
“He's angry.”
“About what?”
“The accounts. The company. Everything.”
I remained silent.
Nia continued.
“He thinks you're trying to ruin him.”
“He may have stolen money from my business.”
“I know.”
My chest tightened.
“You know?”
She began crying harder.
“Marcus, I made terrible mistakes.”
I wanted to shout.
Instead, I kept my voice steady.
“Did you know someone was following Jasmine?”
“No. I swear.”
“Did you threaten her university funding?”
Silence.
“Nia.”
“I was angry.”
I closed my eyes.
“Answer the question.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
I felt sick.
“Did you submit a complaint against her?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn't stop asking you for money.”
“She wasn't asking for luxuries. She was trying to finish school.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Nia sobbed.
“Adrian told me if she kept depending on you, you would never change your estate plan.”
I stared into the darkness.
“So this was about inheritance.”
“He said we deserved more.”
“We?”
She fell silent.
I knew.
I just needed her to say it.
“Nia, were you involved with my brother before we met?”
For several seconds, I heard only her breathing.
Then she whispered, “Yes.”
I shut my eyes.
“How long?”
“Two years.”
“And after we got married?”
She started crying again.
I didn't need another answer.
The silence was enough.
I looked toward the staircase, where Jasmine was sleeping safely for the first time in days.
“You used me.”
“Marcus, please. I grew to love you.”
I let the words settle.
Maybe she believed them.
Maybe she wanted to.
But love didn't explain forged documents, stolen money, and threats against a child.
“I'm going to let the authorities and our attorneys handle this,” I said.
“Adrian won't let that happen.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“He's desperate.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Nia, if you know something that could put anyone in danger, tell the police.”
She began breathing rapidly.
“Marcus, there's something in your office.”
I straightened.
“What?”
“Behind the bottom drawer of your filing cabinet.”
“What is it?”
“Adrian left something there months ago.”
I felt a chill.
“Why?”
“He said it was insurance.”
“Insurance against what?”
Her voice became almost inaudible.
“Against you discovering the money.”
Then I heard a noise on her end of the call.
A door opening.
Nia gasped.
“Adrian?”
My heart stopped.
There was a brief silence.
Then a man's voice spoke.
“Who are you talking to?”
May you like
It was my brother.
And before I could say another word, the call ended.
