Chapter 4
For three months, I had believed I was signing an emergency medical authorization.
Marcus told me it would make things easier if either of us became seriously ill.
He had even kissed my hand afterward.
"Just responsible married people taking care of each other," he'd said.
Now I sat in my father's study, staring at the photograph of Richard Cole.
I felt sick.
"What exactly did I sign?" I asked.
Danielle kept her voice calm.
"We don't know yet. But we will."
I shook my head.
"I remember three pages. The first two talked about medical decisions. The last page had a signature box."
"Was it attached to the other pages?"
I hesitated.
"Marcus had a folder. Richard kept turning the pages."
Danielle made a note.
"Did they leave you copies?"
"No."
My father rubbed his forehead.
"Nia, why didn't you tell me?"
The question stung.
"Because I thought my husband loved me."
His expression softened.
"I'm not blaming you."
But I already blamed myself.
I had built an entire marriage around believing the best in Marcus.
Whenever my instincts warned me, I silenced them.
When he criticized my clothes, I called it concern.
When he disliked my friends, I called it jealousy.
When he demanded access to my bank accounts, I called it transparency.
I had confused control with love.
And now I was discovering how expensive that mistake could become.
Danielle closed her folder.
"We'll request the records and speak with Richard's office. In the meantime, do not contact him."
"Why?"
"Because if he's involved, I don't want him warned about what we know."
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
My best friend, Tasha.
I hadn't spoken to her in almost four months.
Marcus hated Tasha.
He said she filled my head with ideas about independence.
I had slowly stopped answering her calls.
Now I felt ashamed.
I picked up.
"Nia?"
Her voice cracked.
"I saw the police report being discussed online. Please tell me you're safe."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I'm with my dad."
"Oh, thank God."
She started crying.
I did too.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For disappearing."
Tasha went quiet.
Then she said something that shattered me.
"I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know how to get you to talk to me."
I closed my eyes.
"Marcus said you hated him."
"I didn't hate him at first. I hated how afraid you became of upsetting him."
I couldn't answer.
"Can I come see you?" she asked.
"Please."
She arrived an hour later carrying my favorite lemon cake.
When she saw the bruise near my ear, her face collapsed.
"Oh, Nia."
I reached for her.
We hugged so tightly that my head hurt.
But I didn't let go.
For the first time since the dinner, I felt a piece of my old life returning.
We sat on my bedroom floor like we used to.
Tasha listened as I told her everything.
When I finished, she stared at me.
"Do you remember the fundraiser last spring?"
I frowned.
"The children's hospital fundraiser?"
"Yes. Marcus kept trying to introduce himself to all those investors."
"That's normal. He works in finance."
Tasha shook her head.
"I overheard him talking to an older man near the terrace. Marcus said your father was going to guarantee a major investment."
My stomach dropped.
"He said that?"
"Yes. I asked him about it later. He got angry and told me to mind my business."
I pressed my hands together.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried. Remember when I said something about Marcus using your family's name?"
I remembered.
And I remembered my response.
Tasha, please stop judging my husband.
Shame washed over me.
"I'm sorry."
She squeezed my hand.
"Stop apologizing. We're fixing things now."
That afternoon, Danielle received copies of documents from the notary's office.
Richard Cole had maintained records of the meeting.
The documents included a medical authorization.
But there was also a separate page.
A limited power of attorney.
The document purported to give Marcus authority over certain property transactions.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I stared at it.
"That's my handwriting."
Danielle nodded.
"Possibly your actual signature. We need the original pages examined."
I felt dizzy.
"So he can take the apartment?"
"No. Not simply because he has this paper. Its scope, execution, and any misuse can all be challenged. We're already notifying the appropriate parties that the authority is disputed and revoked."
I stared at the document.
Marcus hadn't merely forged my name.
He may have tricked me into signing something I never understood.
My father looked furious.
"Richard helped him."
"Possibly," Danielle said. "We need evidence before making that accusation."
Then she pointed at a handwritten entry in Richard's appointment log.
The meeting had been marked:
SPECIAL CLIENT — E. HOLLOWAY.
Evelyn Holloway.
My mother-in-law.
The person who had arranged everything.
Tasha read the note over my shoulder.
"That woman planned this before you even knew it was happening."
A cold sensation traveled down my back.
I remembered Evelyn insisting that we host Thanksgiving at her house.
I remembered her asking questions about Grandma's will.
I remembered her casually mentioning that married people should share all assets.
This wasn't a sudden financial crisis.
It had been building for months.
Perhaps longer.
That evening, while Tasha helped me pack a bag for a quiet weekend away from the city, another call came.
Danielle answered from downstairs.
I heard her footsteps rushing toward my room.
"Nia, we need to talk."
She looked alarmed.
"What happened?"
"The bank has flagged an attempted transaction involving your apartment."
My heart seemed to stop.
"An attempted transfer?"
Danielle shook her head.
"Someone submitted documents requesting a loan secured by the property."
"But Marcus is under arrest."
"Exactly."
I stared at her.
"So Evelyn is still trying?"
Danielle turned her phone toward me.
The application had been submitted less than an hour earlier.
Under the applicant's name was a company.
M&E Holdings.
And under authorized representative was someone I had never heard of.
Samantha Reed.
I looked up.
"Who is Samantha Reed?"
May you like
Danielle's voice was quiet.
"That's what we're about to find out."
