Chapter 7
Vanessa Brooks wasn't difficult to find.
She owned a small cosmetics distribution company outside Atlanta.
I remembered meeting her once at Nia's birthday dinner.
She was confident, charming, and always talking about business opportunities.
Nia had introduced her as her former partner.
They seemed close.
Almost like sisters.
But when I called Vanessa's office, the receptionist said she was unavailable.
I left my name.
Twenty minutes later, Vanessa called.
“Marcus Bennett?”
“Yes.”
Her voice was cautious.
“Why are you contacting me?”
I took a breath.
“Because I'm trying to understand what happened with Nia's business.”
Silence.
Then she asked, “Did Nia send you?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Then what do you want?”
“The truth.”
She laughed bitterly.
“That would be a change.”
My stomach tightened.
“Can we talk?”
She hesitated.
Then agreed to meet in a public café the following afternoon.
I told Tasha.
She immediately frowned.
“Marcus, be careful.”
“I will.”
“Don't go alone if you feel unsafe.”
I nodded.
The next day, I arrived early.
Vanessa appeared fifteen minutes later.
She wore a cream-colored blazer and carried a large leather handbag.
She looked exhausted.
When she sat down, she didn't smile.
“I don't know what Nia told you,” she said.
I looked at her.
“She told me her cosmetics business failed because the market was too competitive.”
Vanessa stared at me.
Then laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
“That's what she said?”
I nodded.
Vanessa shook her head.
“Marcus, the business didn't fail because of the market.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Then why?”
“Because Nia signed contracts we couldn't afford.”
I frowned.
“What kind?”
“Manufacturing agreements. Advertising commitments. Inventory purchases.”
She opened her handbag.
Then placed a folder on the table.
I stared at it.
“What's this?”
“Records.”
I hesitated.
“Why are you giving them to me?”
“I'm not giving you confidential company files. These are documents I'm authorized to share about my own dispute.”
I nodded.
She opened the folder.
Several invoices.
Emails.
A partnership dissolution agreement.
Vanessa pointed toward one page.
“Nia wanted to expand before we had enough customers.”
I listened.
“She believed a celebrity endorsement would make us rich.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“She committed us to a marketing campaign costing more than one hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Without telling you?”
Vanessa nodded.
“When I objected, she accused me of holding her back.”
I looked down.
That sounded painfully familiar.
Nia had often complained that people didn't believe in her dreams.
I had always encouraged her.
Now I wondered whether encouragement had become something she used to avoid accountability.
Vanessa continued.
“Then the product launch was delayed.”
“Why?”
“Quality-control problems with a supplier.”
I frowned.
“Was anyone hurt?”
“No. We stopped distribution before the affected products reached customers.”
I exhaled.
“But the delay cost money.”
“A lot.”
She leaned forward.
“Nia kept borrowing because she thought one big launch would fix everything.”
I stared at her.
“Did you know about the loans?”
“Some of them.”
“And the others?”
She shook her head.
“I found out after our partnership collapsed.”
My stomach tightened.
Vanessa looked at me carefully.
“Marcus, how much does she owe now?”
I hesitated.
“She told me two hundred and sixty thousand.”
Vanessa's expression changed.
“That much?”
I nodded.
She closed her eyes.
“Oh, Nia.”
For a moment, I saw genuine sadness in her face.
Then she said, “I don't think she set out to hurt you.”
I looked at her.
“Then why did she lie?”
Vanessa sighed.
“Because she cannot bear admitting failure.”
I sat quietly.
She continued.
“Nia grew up believing she had to be extraordinary to deserve love.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Her mother praised success and ignored everything else.”
I remembered Nia describing her childhood.
A strict mother.
High expectations.
Constant comparisons.
Vanessa continued.
“When the business struggled, Nia kept pretending everything was fine.”
I looked down.
“Until the debt became impossible.”
She nodded.
I thought about Amara.
Daniel.
The forged authorization.
The custody document.
Then I asked, “Did Nia ever mention my family trust?”
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“What did she say?”
“She said you were wealthy enough to help her.”
I swallowed.
“And?”
“She asked whether getting married would make it easier to borrow against family assets.”
I felt sick.
Vanessa leaned forward.
“I told her that wasn't how things worked.”
I stared at her.
“She didn't listen?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Marcus, I warned her not to build a financial rescue plan around another person.”
I closed my eyes.
For three years, I had believed Nia wanted to marry me because she loved me.
Now I understood that even if her feelings were real, her desperation had become tangled with money.
Vanessa watched me.
“I'm sorry.”
I nodded.
Then she said something that surprised me.
“There's one thing I need you to know.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Nia was trying to repay some of the debt before she met you.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“She worked two jobs. Sold her car. Moved into a smaller apartment.”
I stared at her.
“She never told me.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Because she was ashamed.”
I sat quietly.
For the first time, I could see Nia as something other than a liar.
She was also a frightened woman who had made terrible decisions and kept making worse ones to cover them.
That didn't excuse her.
But it helped me understand.
I thanked Vanessa and left.
That evening, I called Nia.
She answered on the first ring.
“Marcus?”
Her voice broke.
“I didn't think you'd ever call.”
I closed my eyes.
“We need to talk.”
She began crying.
“Please.”
I took a breath.
“But this time, I need the complete truth.”
She was quiet.
Then whispered, “Okay.”
I hesitated.
“Nia, did you submit a forged authorization to my father's attorney?”
A long silence followed.
Then she began sobbing.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why?”
Her voice trembled.
“Because I thought if I could just fix the money problem, everything else would be okay.”
I stared at the wall.
“And Amara?”
She cried harder.
“I wanted her back in my life.”
I swallowed.
“Then why use her to convince Daniel to change custody?”
She couldn't answer.
I took a breath.
“Nia, I can't save you from consequences.”
“I know.”
“But you can still choose to tell the truth.”
She cried quietly.
Then whispered, “Marcus, I need help.”
May you like
For the first time, I believed she wasn't asking me for money.
She was asking because she had finally run out of places to hide.
