Chapter 5
The unknown number belonged to a woman named Alicia Grant.
She introduced herself the following morning.
I was sitting in Nicole's office when she called.
Her voice sounded nervous.
"Mr. Bennett?"
"This is Marcus."
"My name is Alicia. I used to work for Derrick Lawson."
I sat straighter.
"What do you want?"
She hesitated.
"To tell you something before somebody gets hurt financially."
Nicole leaned closer.
I put the call on speaker.
Alicia explained that she had worked as an administrative assistant for Lawson Capital Partners.
She handled scheduling.
Prepared client files.
And organized investment proposals.
At first, the company seemed legitimate.
But over time, she noticed unusual behavior.
Derrick frequently approached property owners through intermediaries.
He sometimes used personal relationships to obtain information.
And he encouraged people to invest in projects without fully explaining the risks.
I listened carefully.
Then asked, "What does that have to do with me?"
Alicia took a breath.
"Your name has been in our office for months."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because Derrick wanted your commercial building."
I looked at Nicole.
She nodded for me to continue.
"Why?"
Alicia hesitated.
"There's a proposed redevelopment project near that property."
I frowned.
"I know the neighborhood is changing."
"Not like this."
She explained that several investors were quietly acquiring nearby properties.
A private development group had been negotiating a major mixed-use project.
If approved, the area could attract significant investment.
My building sat near a key access route.
That made it potentially valuable.
I felt cold.
"How valuable?"
Alicia paused.
"I don't know the exact figure. But Derrick believed it could be worth substantially more than you paid."
I leaned back.
Then everything began making sense.
The offer to the previous owner.
The secrecy.
Tasha's sudden interest.
The refinancing inquiry.
Derrick wanted control of the property before I understood its potential.
I asked Alicia why she was contacting me.
Her voice trembled.
"Because he asked me to prepare documents that didn't match what the clients had authorized."
Nicole leaned forward.
"What documents?"
Alicia explained that Derrick had discussed using a loan arrangement to pressure me into selling.
The proposal involved a refinancing application.
If a loan were approved under unfavorable terms, the resulting debt could create financial pressure.
But because the signature was disputed and the lender had not approved the application, no such debt had been created.
I stared at the desk.
"So the plan failed?"
Alicia hesitated.
"That part didn't happen. But Derrick has other ideas."
My stomach tightened.
"What other ideas?"
She went silent.
Then said, "He wants Tasha to claim she has an ownership interest in the house."
I stared.
"She doesn't."
"I know. But he thinks a legal dispute could pressure you."
Nicole took notes.
Alicia continued.
"He believes you'll pay to make the problem disappear."
I closed my eyes.
The scheme wasn't necessarily about winning in court.
It was about making my life difficult enough that I surrendered something valuable.
Then Alicia said something unexpected.
"There's another reason I'm calling."
I opened my eyes.
"What?"
"Tasha told Derrick you were easy to manipulate."
The words hit harder than I expected.
I stared at the wall.
Alicia continued.
"She said you hate confrontation."
My throat tightened.
"She said if she embarrassed you enough, you'd do almost anything to prove yourself."
I looked down.
The barbecue.
The insults.
The laughter.
Had that been part of her strategy?
Alicia didn't claim to know everything.
But she said Tasha repeatedly described me as desperate for approval.
A man who wanted to prove he was successful.
Someone who might agree to a risky financial deal if it made him look wealthy.
I felt sick.
For years, I had tried to earn Tasha's respect.
Now I realized she might have been using that insecurity against me.
Nicole asked Alicia whether she had documents supporting her statements.
She said yes.
Emails.
Internal notes.
Draft proposals.
But she was afraid.
Derrick had threatened legal action against former employees who disclosed company information.
Nicole advised her to obtain independent legal counsel and preserve the materials.
Alicia agreed.
Before ending the call, she said something I wouldn't forget.
"Mr. Bennett, I don't think you're foolish."
I swallowed.
She continued.
"I think you trusted someone who knew exactly how to use that trust."
The call ended.
For a long time, I sat silently.
Nicole didn't rush me.
Then I looked at her.
"What do we do?"
She folded her hands.
"We protect your property, preserve the evidence, and avoid giving Derrick an opportunity to turn this into a personal fight."
I nodded.
I wanted to confront him.
I wanted to demand answers.
But I knew anger could make things worse.
So we focused on documentation.
Nicole contacted the lender.
Confirmed the disputed application remained closed.
And arranged for my business attorney to review possible misuse of confidential information.
We also examined the property's title records.
There were no recorded liens connected to Derrick's proposal.
No transfer of ownership.
No completed unauthorized loan.
That was important.
My building remained mine.
My house remained mine.
But the attempted interference still needed investigation.
That afternoon, I visited the commercial building.
It was three stories tall.
Brick exterior.
Large windows.
A small parking lot behind it.
Nothing extravagant.
But I loved it.
I had spent months renovating the interior.
Replacing wiring.
Repairing plumbing.
Upgrading the heating system.
Every room reminded me of work I had done.
I stood in the lobby.
Then remembered my first construction job.
I was twenty-two.
Working long hours.
Carrying tools up flights of stairs.
Coming home exhausted.
My father was still alive then.
He would ask how work went.
I always complained.
He would laugh.
"Son, you're learning how to build something."
I didn't understand what he meant until years later.
He wasn't only talking about buildings.
He was talking about patience.
Character.
Independence.
The ability to create something through honest effort.
I walked upstairs.
Sunlight filled the renovated office space.
I felt proud.
Not because Derrick believed the building was valuable.
But because I had earned it.
Then my phone rang.
Tasha.
I let it ring.
She called again.
I ignored it.
Then she sent a message.
"Marcus, Derrick says you're about to make a huge financial mistake."
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
"Please meet us tonight. We can still fix everything."
I forwarded the messages to Nicole.
She advised me not to attend an informal meeting.
I agreed.
Then another message arrived.
This one was different.
"If you don't cooperate, people are going to find out what really happened with your father's house."
I froze.
My father's house?
He had died five years earlier.
His old home had been sold long before.
I had no idea what Tasha meant.
I called Isaiah.
He answered immediately.
"What's wrong?"
I showed him the message.
There was silence.
Then he said, "Marcus, there's something I need to tell you."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
Isaiah took a breath.
"Before Dad died, he asked me to keep a folder for you."
I stared.
"A folder?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Isaiah hesitated.
"Because I didn't know when to give it to you."
My heart started pounding.
"What was in it?"
He whispered, "Documents about the property he sold."
I closed my eyes.
Then Isaiah said something that changed everything.
May you like
"Marcus, Dad never wanted that house sold."
And suddenly, the secret Tasha was threatening to expose became more important than the commercial building.
