Chapter 2
Tasha reached for the folder again.
"Marcus, stop playing games."
I looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
"Nobody's playing."
Nicole quietly closed the folder.
The guests had stopped laughing.
Brittany stood near the buffet table, holding a paper plate she had forgotten to put down.
Tasha's younger brother, Andre, leaned against the deck railing.
Even the music seemed too loud now.
Tasha crossed her arms.
"Fine. Explain it."
I took a slow breath.
"The house belongs to me."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Tasha laughed.
A sharp, disbelieving sound.
"You're lying."
I shook my head.
"No."
She looked toward Nicole.
"Tell him to stop."
Nicole remained professional.
"The recorded deed identifies Marcus as the property owner."
Tasha stared at her.
Then at me.
"That's impossible."
I looked toward the house.
The same house where we had lived for eleven months.
The place where Tasha hosted parties.
Where she invited her coworkers.
Where she repeatedly told people she was providing me with a roof over my head.
I remembered the first day we moved in.
Tasha had walked through the kitchen, admiring the marble countertops.
She had kissed me.
Then whispered, "I can't believe we finally made it."
I had smiled.
Neither of us had mentioned whose name appeared on the deed.
But I had never lied to her about it.
She had simply assumed.
And once she discovered that assumption made her look successful, she repeated it until everyone believed her.
I turned toward the guests.
"I'm not interested in embarrassing anyone."
Tasha scoffed.
"Too late."
I ignored her.
"I just want the truth understood."
Nicole handed me the deed.
I opened it to the recorded ownership page.
My full legal name appeared clearly.
Marcus Daniel Bennett.
The original purchase had closed almost a year earlier.
I had bought the house using proceeds from a commercial renovation project and financing arranged through my company.
I made the mortgage payments.
I paid the property taxes.
I covered the insurance.
And I handled nearly every major household expense.
Tasha had contributed toward groceries and decorations occasionally.
I appreciated those contributions.
But they didn't make her the owner.
Tasha stared at the paper.
Then she looked at me with fury.
"You let me believe this was our house."
I nodded.
"It was our home."
"That's not the same thing!"
"No," I said quietly. "It isn't."
Her eyes filled with tears.
For a second, I almost felt guilty.
Then I remembered what happened two nights earlier.
I had been reviewing receipts in my home office when an email arrived from our mortgage lender.
Someone had submitted a request for ownership verification.
The inquiry mentioned a proposed refinancing arrangement.
I hadn't requested one.
When I contacted the lender, I learned that the person making the inquiry had claimed to be acting with the owner's authorization.
That person was Tasha.
At first, I assumed it was a misunderstanding.
Maybe she was helping with something.
Maybe she had contacted the wrong company.
Then I asked her about it.
She told me she had never spoken to the lender.
But the next morning, Nicole helped me obtain copies of the inquiry documents.
Tasha's name appeared.
So did another name.
Derrick Lawson.
I recognized him immediately.
Derrick was Tasha's former boyfriend.
A real estate investor she claimed she hadn't spoken to in years.
But his name was listed as the proposed financial contact.
I felt sick.
That was why Nicole had the additional documents.
And why I had asked her to come that afternoon.
I wasn't planning a public confrontation.
I had intended to meet her privately before the barbecue began.
But traffic delayed her arrival.
And Tasha's insults forced the conversation into the open.
Tasha looked around.
"Everybody needs to leave."
The guests hesitated.
I nodded.
"She's right. This is private."
People began gathering their belongings.
Brittany approached Tasha.
"Girl, call me."
Tasha ignored her.
Andre looked at me.
"Marcus, everything okay?"
I forced a smile.
"We'll handle it."
He nodded.
Then followed the others outside.
Within fifteen minutes, the backyard was empty.
The burgers were still on the grill.
The string lights glowed above an abandoned buffet table.
And Tasha stood in front of me trembling with anger.
"How dare you humiliate me?"
I stared at her.
"That's what you're worried about?"
She pointed toward the gate.
"You made me look like a fool!"
I took a breath.
"You called me a freeloader in front of thirty people."
"That was a joke!"
"It wasn't funny."
She rolled her eyes.
"You're too sensitive."
Nicole cleared her throat.
"Marcus, perhaps we should discuss the remaining documents."
Tasha turned sharply.
"What remaining documents?"
I opened the folder again.
Then I placed the lender inquiry on the table.
Tasha glanced at it.
Her expression changed instantly.
I watched her eyes move across the page.
Then she whispered, "Where did you get this?"
I felt my chest tighten.
"So you recognize it."
She looked at Nicole.
Then back at me.
"It's not what you think."
I pointed toward Derrick's name.
"Then explain why your ex-boyfriend was involved in a refinancing inquiry concerning my house."
Tasha swallowed.
"He works in real estate."
"I know."
"He was helping me understand something."
"Understand what?"
She looked away.
I stepped closer.
"Tasha."
She folded her arms.
"I was exploring options."
"Options for what?"
She didn't answer.
I pointed toward the document.
"Someone attempted to obtain information about borrowing against a property you don't own."
Her eyes flashed.
"I live here!"
"Living here doesn't give you authority to use my property as collateral."
Nicole intervened.
"Any refinancing would require proper authorization from the legal owner. The lender flagged the inquiry before anything proceeded."
Tasha looked relieved.
"Then no harm was done."
I stared at her.
"No harm?"
She sighed.
"Marcus, you're making this bigger than it is."
I looked at the woman I had planned to marry.
The woman who had repeatedly insulted me.
Who had dismissed my work.
Who now wanted me to ignore a financial inquiry involving her ex-boyfriend.
I shook my head.
"I need the truth."
Tasha looked toward the house.
Then whispered, "You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
She turned.
"Fine."
Her voice became cold.
"Derrick offered me a business opportunity."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What opportunity?"
She looked directly at me.
"A property investment."
I waited.
She continued.
"He said we could make a lot of money if we used the equity in this house."
I stared at her.
"You planned to borrow against my house?"
She swallowed.
"I thought you would agree."
"You never asked."
Tasha looked away.
Then Nicole opened another document.
"Marcus, there's something else you need to see."
I turned.
She handed me a printed email.
The subject line read:
"Proposed Owner Consent."
My heartbeat quickened.
I looked at the attached signature page.
Then I saw my name.
Written in a handwriting style that resembled mine.
But I had never signed it.
I looked up slowly.
"Tasha."
She went pale.
"Did you sign my name?"
Her lips parted.
May you like
No sound came out.
And for the first time, I realized the woman who mocked me for having nothing might have been trying to take the very thing I had built.
