Chapter 5
I stared at the speakerphone.
"The buyers were expecting my wedding?"
Uncle Leonard hesitated.
"Marcus, you're misunderstanding."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"Then explain why a land sale depends on whether I marry Nia."
Silence.
Camille watched me carefully.
I took a breath.
"Uncle Leonard."
He finally answered.
"The marriage was supposed to simplify the partnership."
I laughed bitterly.
"My marriage?"
"It's a family arrangement."
I stared at the table.
"Whose family?"
Leonard sighed.
"Don't be childish."
Something inside me snapped.
"You kept a twenty-million-dollar trust hidden from me after I became entitled to an accounting, and now you're calling me childish?"
He didn't answer.
I continued.
"You created a development company with my bride's father."
"That's perfectly legitimate."
"Without telling me?"
Leonard's voice hardened.
"You wouldn't understand the business."
I almost laughed.
I owned a construction company.
I'd negotiated projects worth millions.
I'd spent ten years building relationships with developers across Georgia.
And my uncle was claiming I couldn't understand a real estate transaction.
Camille leaned forward.
"Mr. Carter, this is Camille Brooks, Marcus's attorney."
Leonard went quiet.
She continued.
"We'll be requesting the complete trust records and all proposed transaction documents."
His voice changed instantly.
"There's no need for lawyers."
Camille smiled without warmth.
"Apparently there is."
Leonard ended the call.
I stared at the phone.
Then looked at her.
"What now?"
"We follow the documents."
I nodded.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Nia.
Had she ever loved me?
Or had I simply been the easiest way into my grandfather's trust?
That evening, Mom called.
Her voice sounded worried.
"Marcus, are you all right?"
I closed my eyes.
"Not really."
She was quiet.
Then said, "Come home."
I drove straight to her house.
She had made fried chicken.
Cornbread.
Collard greens.
My favorite meal since childhood.
I sat at her kitchen table.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she placed a plate in front of me.
"Eat."
I smiled weakly.
"Mom, I'm not hungry."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Marcus Carter, you haven't eaten all day."
I laughed despite myself.
"How do you know?"
"Because I'm your mother."
I took a bite.
Then another.
The familiar taste almost made me cry.
Mom sat across from me.
"Do you still love her?"
I stopped eating.
I thought about Nia.
Her laugh.
The way she used to dance while cooking.
The nights we spent planning our future.
The proposal.
The ring.
The wedding.
Then I remembered cash falling at my mother's feet.
"I don't know."
Mom nodded.
"That's honest."
I looked down.
"I thought she was different."
Mom reached for my hand.
"Sometimes people show us who they are slowly."
I swallowed.
"Why didn't you tell me about the trust sooner?"
Her expression changed.
"I wanted to."
I looked up.
"Then why didn't you?"
She took a breath.
"Leonard kept saying the papers weren't ready."
I frowned.
"What papers?"
"The final accounting."
My stomach tightened.
"He told me it would cause trouble if I discussed the trust before everything was settled."
I stared at her.
"Mom, the trust should have been transparent."
She nodded.
"I know that now."
Her eyes filled.
"I was trying to protect you from another family fight."
I looked down.
For years, our family had avoided talking about money.
My grandfather's estate.
Uncle Leonard's business dealings.
Old arguments.
Everyone claimed silence kept the peace.
But silence had allowed people to make decisions without scrutiny.
Now it had nearly cost me my marriage and my inheritance.
I squeezed Mom's hand.
"No more secrets."
She nodded.
"No more."
The next morning, Camille called with new information.
The proposed land sale was valued at twenty-six million dollars.
The buyer was a commercial development firm planning a distribution center.
I stared at the number.
Twenty-six million.
My grandfather had bought that land for less than a hundred thousand dollars.
Camille continued.
"The proposed agreement includes significant consulting payments."
My stomach tightened.
"To whom?"
"Whitfield Carter Development Group."
I closed my eyes.
"How much?"
"Four million dollars."
I sat down.
Four million dollars.
A payment to the company controlled by Nia's father and my uncle.
Money potentially extracted from the value of the trust property.
I felt sick.
Camille continued.
"The documents also include a proposed waiver by you."
My heart pounded.
"What waiver?"
"One that could limit your ability to challenge certain management decisions."
I stared at the wall.
The packet Nia wanted me to sign.
The rushed wedding.
The pressure.
The humiliation of my mother.
It was beginning to fit together.
But there was something I still didn't understand.
"Why did Nia throw the money at Mom?"
Camille paused.
"That may have been an emotional reaction. We shouldn't assume every action was planned."
I nodded.
She was right.
Nia could have been furious because Mom found the documents.
But that didn't explain the cruelty.
I needed to know how much she understood.
That afternoon, I received a message from an unknown number.
Marcus, you deserve to know what happened before the wedding.
I frowned.
Who is this?
The reply came immediately.
Someone who worked for Lawrence Whitfield.
My heart quickened.
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed Nia sitting in her father's office.
Uncle Leonard stood beside her.
A large folder lay on the desk.
I recognized the cover.
WHITFIELD CARTER DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
Below the photograph was a sentence.
They discussed the land deal three weeks before your proposal.
My stomach dropped.
Three weeks before I asked Nia to marry me.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
Nia wasn't surprised by the trust.
May you like
She helped plan how to get your signature.
And suddenly, the last piece of hope I still carried began to disappear.
