Chapter 6
I left Bellamy's without proposing.
The ring stayed in my pocket.
Nia remained in the private room with Daniel, crying.
I didn't slam doors.
I didn't shout.
I simply walked outside into the cold Atlanta night and realized I had no idea what my future looked like anymore.
Three years of my life had been built around a woman I barely knew.
I sat in my car for almost twenty minutes.
My phone kept vibrating.
Nia.
Again.
And again.
I couldn't answer.
Eventually, I called Tasha.
She picked up immediately.
“Marcus?”
I swallowed.
“It's over.”
My sister went silent.
Then she asked, “Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Are you okay to drive?”
I looked through the windshield.
“No.”
“Stay there. I'm coming.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Tasha arrived.
She opened my passenger door.
And before she said a word, I began crying.
I hadn't cried like that since our father died.
I cried for the woman I thought I loved.
For the marriage I had imagined.
For the children I hoped we would have.
For the little girl who had called Nia Mommy and looked at me like I might become part of her life.
Tasha held my hand.
“You didn't deserve this.”
I shook my head.
“I feel stupid.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because I missed everything.”
She squeezed my hand.
“You trusted someone you loved.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“I know.”
She leaned closer.
“But it doesn't make you stupid.”
I wiped my face.
For several minutes, we sat in silence.
Then I reached into my pocket.
I pulled out the velvet box.
Tasha stared at it.
“Oh, Marcus.”
I opened it.
The ring looked beautiful.
Exactly what I had imagined Nia would love.
I closed it.
“I don't know what to do with this.”
Tasha gently took the box.
“You don't have to decide tonight.”
I nodded.
The next morning, I woke up on Tasha's couch.
My phone contained thirty-seven missed calls.
Twenty-one messages from Nia.
Several from Daniel.
One from Jordan at Bellamy's.
I stared at the screen.
Then opened Daniel's message.
Marcus, I owe you an apology for how last night unfolded. I didn't know what Nia had told you. Amara is safe with me. I'd appreciate a conversation when you're ready.
I read it twice.
Then opened Jordan's message.
Sir, I'm sorry for putting you in that position. I spoke up because I thought you deserved to know. I hope you're okay.
I stared at those words.
A waiter had shown me more honesty in five minutes than the woman I loved had shown me in three years.
I texted Jordan.
You did the right thing. Thank you.
Then I called Daniel.
He answered immediately.
“Marcus?”
“Hey.”
He sounded relieved.
“Are you okay?”
I looked toward the window.
“Not really.”
“I understand.”
I took a breath.
“How's Amara?”
“She's okay.”
I exhaled.
“Good.”
He hesitated.
“She asked about you.”
My chest tightened.
“What did you tell her?”
“That you're a friend of her mother's and the adults are working through some things.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
Daniel paused.
“Marcus, I don't want you to feel responsible for any of this.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
Then I asked something that had been bothering me all night.
“Do you think Nia is in danger because of the debt?”
Daniel sighed.
“I don't know.”
I stared at the floor.
“She seemed terrified.”
“I noticed.”
He hesitated.
“Marcus, I'm not defending what she did.”
“I know.”
“But if she's involved with dangerous lenders, I need to understand whether that could affect Amara.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of course.”
We agreed to share any information relevant to the child's safety through appropriate channels.
Then I ended the call.
Tasha entered the room carrying coffee.
She looked at me.
“Daniel?”
I nodded.
She sat beside me.
“Marcus, there's something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What now?”
She hesitated.
“Dad's attorney called again.”
I straightened.
“What did he say?”
“He checked the records.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“And?”
“Someone submitted a forged authorization requesting access to trust information.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She nodded.
“The signature resembles yours, but the attorney's office rejected it.”
My hands began shaking.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I closed my eyes.
Three weeks.
Nia had spent that weekend at my house.
She had used my office computer to print travel documents.
She knew where I kept old financial paperwork.
I felt sick.
“Tasha, do they know who submitted it?”
“They're investigating.”
I stared at the wall.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unfamiliar number.
Marcus, you don't know the whole story about Nia's debt.
I frowned.
Another message arrived.
She didn't borrow all that money for herself.
My stomach tightened.
I typed back.
Who is this?
The response came immediately.
Someone who knows what happened to her business.
Then a final message.
If you want the truth, ask Nia about her partner, Vanessa Brooks.
I stared at the screen.
Vanessa Brooks.
I had heard that name before.
Nia once told me Vanessa was her closest friend.
May you like
But I hadn't seen Vanessa in nearly a year.
And now a stranger was telling me that the woman who had helped build Nia's business might be the key to everything.
