Chapter 4
I stared at the transfer request until the numbers blurred.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Requested against a line of credit secured by my home.
The home Marcus had just learned was legally mine.
The home he had apparently tried to use anyway.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I said.
Marcus did not answer.
“Tell me you did not forge my name.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
I slammed my phone onto the table.
“Then tell me what it was like.”
Evelyn stepped backward.
Marcus rubbed both hands over his shaved head.
“We needed liquidity.”
“We?”
“The family.”
I stared at him.
“You stole from your employer, lost the money, emptied our savings, and then tried to borrow against my house.”
“I was fixing it.”
“You call that fixing it?”
His voice rose.
“I was trying to keep everything from falling apart!”
“It already fell apart.”
He pointed at me.
“You think you’re better than me because your grandmother left you money.”
I shook my head.
“This has nothing to do with my grandmother.”
“It has everything to do with her.”
There it was.
Years of resentment.
He had hidden it behind jokes.
Behind comments.
Behind his constant need to remind everyone that he was the man of the house.
“You always had that safety net,” he said. “You never understood pressure.”
I almost could not believe him.
“I worked through pneumonia because we needed money.”
“That was your choice.”
“I paid your mother’s bills.”
“I never asked you to.”
“You asked me every single time she called.”
“That’s what wives do.”
I stared at him.
Not people.
Not partners.
Wives.
In Marcus’s mind, my money belonged to the marriage.
His mistakes belonged to everyone.
But my decisions belonged to him.
I picked up my phone and called Rachel again.
Marcus groaned.
“Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Rachel answered.
“What happened?”
“There’s a home equity application I never made.”
“Stop.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Do not touch anything else on the account.”
I told her what I could see.
She asked me to take screenshots.
I did.
“Was it completed?” she asked.
“It says pending verification.”
“Good.”
Marcus laughed bitterly.
“You’re acting like I robbed a bank.”
Rachel heard him.
“If you signed her name without authorization, Marcus, you may have committed fraud.”
His face changed.
“How do you know my name?”
“She’s my lawyer,” I said.
He looked at me as though I had betrayed him.
I almost admired the irony.
Rachel instructed me to call the lender’s fraud department immediately.
I did.
A woman named Mrs. Alvarez answered after several transfers.
She asked security questions.
Then she froze the application.
“Mrs. Carter,” she said, “the application was submitted electronically six days ago.”
Six days.
While Marcus and I had eaten dinner together.
While he had complained that the chicken was dry.
While I had washed his plate.
“Was my signature used?”
“Yes.”
My knees weakened.
“And identification?”
“A copy of your driver’s license.”
I closed my eyes.
Marcus knew where I kept it.
In the small drawer beside our bed.
“Can you tell me what email was used?”
She read it aloud.
I recognized it.
Marcus had created the address years ago for online shopping.
My name followed by a string of numbers.
I had forgotten it existed.
He had not.
I looked at him.
He no longer tried to deny anything.
Mrs. Alvarez explained that the fraud team would investigate.
She told me I might need to file a police report.
Marcus finally reacted.
“No.”
Mrs. Alvarez went silent.
I said, “I understand.”
Then I ended the call.
Marcus came closer.
“You’re not involving police.”
I looked directly at him.
“You involved police when you forged my signature.”
“I’m your husband.”
“That does not give you ownership of my identity.”
Evelyn started crying harder.
“Please, both of you.”
I turned to her.
“No.”
She flinched.
“There is no both of us.”
My phone rang.
This time it was my sister, Aaliyah.
I had texted her earlier.
COME OVER IF I CALL.
I answered.
“Nia?”
Her voice was alert.
“I need you here.”
“I’m ten minutes away.”
Marcus overheard.
“You’re bringing your sister into this?”
“Yes.”
“She hates me.”
Aaliyah did not hate Marcus.
At least she had not at first.
She simply saw things I refused to see.
Three years earlier, after Marcus yelled at me during Thanksgiving because I bought the wrong brand of cranberry sauce, Aaliyah pulled me into the guest room.
“Why are you scared of your own husband?”
I had been furious with her.
I accused her of trying to ruin my marriage.
She never mentioned it again.
But she never stopped watching.
Now I understood.
Marcus paced toward the living room.
“You always run to your family.”
I followed him.
“No. That’s what I should have done years ago.”
He turned.
“You want everyone thinking I’m some kind of monster?”
“I want people to know the truth.”
His face twisted.
“The truth?”
“Yes.”
“Then tell them how cold you are.”
I laughed softly.
“Cold?”
“You stopped acting like a wife months ago.”
“Because every conversation became a fight.”
“You stopped touching me.”
“Because I was exhausted.”
“You embarrassed me.”
“How?”
“By acting like you didn’t need me.”
The sentence stopped me.
Marcus saw it.
He stepped closer.
“That’s what this is really about.”
I whispered, “What?”
“You always needed to prove you could survive without me.”
I stared at him.
“No, Marcus.”
I shook my head.
“I spent eleven years trying to prove I wanted you.”
He said nothing.
“And you spent eleven years punishing me because I didn’t need to be rescued by you.”
For the first time, he had no answer.
Headlights appeared through the front window.
Aaliyah.
Marcus cursed.
Then he moved toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”
“To pack.”
“Good.”
He stopped.
I could tell he had not expected that.
A knock sounded at the door.
I opened it.
Aaliyah stood there wearing sweatpants and a denim jacket, her curls pulled into a loose bun.
She looked at my face.
Then past me toward Marcus.
“What happened?”
I stepped aside.
“Everything.”
She entered.
Marcus scoffed.
“Perfect.”
Aaliyah ignored him.
I told her about the dealership.
The stolen money.
The forged application.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she looked at Marcus.
“You need to leave.”
He laughed.
“You don’t live here.”
“No.”
Aaliyah stepped closer.
“But neither do you, apparently.”
I almost smiled.
Marcus grabbed a duffel bag from the hallway closet.
Evelyn finally began collecting her purse and coat.
Then Aaliyah noticed something on the dining table.
A white envelope.
Not mine.
Not Rachel’s.
It had fallen from Marcus’s work bag.
Aaliyah picked it up.
“Marcus?”
His face went pale.
“Put that down.”
She looked at me.
My name was written across the front.
NIA CARTER.
In handwriting I did not recognize.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Marcus standing outside a hotel.
Beside him was a woman.
His arm was around her waist.
May you like
On the back, someone had written four words.
ASK HIM ABOUT TARA.
