Chapter 2
Marcus reached for the envelope.
I pulled it away.
"Don't."
His eyes narrowed.
"Nia, give it to me."
I held it against my chest.
"No."
"That's my child too."
I stared at him.
"Then why have you spent six months pretending neither of us exists?"
He looked away.
I recognized that expression.
The clenched jaw.
The slight tightening around his eyes.
Marcus always looked that way when a conversation threatened to expose something he wanted hidden.
"What's in the envelope?" he demanded.
I took a careful breath.
"Yesterday, my attorney called me."
His expression changed.
"Your attorney?"
"Yes."
"Why do you have an attorney?"
I almost laughed.
"Because someone filed a divorce petition against me."
He looked at the bed.
Then back at me.
I continued.
"She discovered a second document had been prepared."
"What document?"
"A proposed custody agreement."
Marcus froze.
I watched his face.
He wasn't surprised.
And suddenly, I knew he had been involved.
"You knew," I whispered.
He rubbed his forehead.
"Nia, you're making assumptions."
I reached inside the envelope.
My hands shook as I removed several pages.
The first was a proposed parenting arrangement.
The second was a letter from a law office.
The third was a statement concerning my medical history.
A statement I had never written.
Never signed.
Never authorized.
I held it up.
"Explain this."
Marcus glanced at the page.
Then looked away.
I read the first paragraph aloud.
"'Mrs. Bennett has experienced significant emotional instability during pregnancy and may require assistance with newborn care.'"
My voice cracked.
"Emotional instability?"
He said nothing.
I continued.
"'Mr. Bennett is prepared to provide primary residential care until the mother's condition improves.'"
I lowered the page.
"You were planning to take our baby?"
Marcus exhaled sharply.
"Nobody is taking anyone."
"Then why does this document say you should have primary care?"
He stepped closer.
"It's a proposal."
"A proposal you made without speaking to me."
He stared at the floor.
I felt my daughter kick.
I pressed one hand against my belly.
"Marcus, I've attended every prenatal appointment. My doctor says my pregnancy is progressing normally."
"That's not what this is about."
"Then what is it about?"
He looked toward the window.
"You're emotional."
I stared at him.
"Because I'm pregnant?"
"Because you've been difficult."
My mouth fell open.
Difficult.
I had spent months preparing for motherhood.
Working from home when my feet swelled.
Attending appointments alone.
Assembling nursery furniture while Marcus claimed he was too busy.
And he had decided that made me unfit.
I stepped away from him.
"Who wrote that statement?"
He didn't answer.
"Marcus."
He sighed.
"My attorney helped prepare it."
"Based on what?"
"Things I've observed."
I felt cold.
"You told a lawyer I couldn't care for our daughter?"
His voice rose.
"I said I had concerns!"
"Concerns you never mentioned to me?"
He looked frustrated.
"Nia, you're proving my point right now."
Something inside me went still.
He wasn't trying to explain.
He was trying to make my anger look like evidence against me.
I recognized the trap.
And for the first time, I refused to step into it.
I lowered my voice.
"From now on, you can discuss legal matters with my attorney."
He blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me."
He reached for his shoes.
"Fine. Then I want access to all the baby's medical records."
I looked at him.
"You already have information from the appointments you attended."
His face tightened.
"I have rights."
"And so do I."
I walked toward the hallway.
My back ached.
My feet were swollen.
My heart was breaking.
But I needed distance.
Marcus followed.
"Nia, we're not finished."
I stopped at the top of the stairs.
"Actually, we are."
He stared.
I continued.
"I've asked my attorney to communicate with yours about the divorce, the house, and arrangements concerning our daughter."
His expression darkened.
"Your grandmother's money has made you arrogant."
I turned slowly.
"Don't bring my grandmother into this."
He laughed bitterly.
"Everything with you comes back to that inheritance."
My stomach tightened.
For years, Marcus had resented the money my grandmother left me.
Not because I spent it recklessly.
Because I wouldn't surrender complete control of it.
He wanted access to my investment accounts.
He wanted his name added to the deed.
He wanted me to finance his business ideas.
And whenever I hesitated, he accused me of not trusting him.
Now I wondered whether the divorce had less to do with another woman than I'd first believed.
"Is this about the house?" I asked.
He looked startled.
"What?"
"Did you think filing first would give you control over my property?"
His jaw tightened.
"Marriage means sharing."
"Marriage also means honesty."
He looked away.
I went downstairs.
My phone was on the kitchen counter.
I called my attorney, Camille Brooks.
She answered immediately.
"Nia? Are you safe?"
The question almost made me cry.
"Yes."
"What's happened?"
I explained everything.
The divorce papers.
The bedroom.
Marcus's admission about another woman.
The proposed custody documents.
Camille listened carefully.
Then she asked whether Marcus was still in the house.
"Yes."
"Do not argue about possession of the property. We can address temporary arrangements through the legal process."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"And preserve every document."
"I will."
She paused.
"Nia, there's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The statement attached to the custody proposal identifies a medical provider."
I frowned.
"I saw that."
"Have you ever been treated by Dr. Evelyn Price?"
I thought carefully.
"No."
Camille went quiet.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely."
She exhaled.
"Then we have a serious issue."
I gripped the counter.
"What issue?"
"The letter claims Dr. Price evaluated you for pregnancy-related psychological concerns."
My blood went cold.
"She never did."
"That's what I needed to confirm."
I looked toward the staircase.
Marcus was still upstairs.
Camille continued.
"We're going to request authentication and investigate how that letter was produced."
I swallowed.
"Can he use it against me?"
"We'll challenge inaccurate material and protect your rights."
My eyes filled.
"Camille, I'm scared."
Her voice softened.
"I understand. But we're going to work from facts, not threats."
After the call, I sat at the kitchen island.
For the first time that morning, I let myself cry.
Not because Marcus wanted a divorce.
Because I was beginning to understand how carefully he'd prepared to leave.
Then my phone buzzed.
An unfamiliar number.
A message appeared.
Nia, my name is Tessa. You don't know me, but I know Marcus.
My heart pounded.
Another message arrived.
He's lying to both of us.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
Then read the final sentence.
And the custody papers weren't his idea.
