Chapter 7
My father didn't chase Diane.
He didn't shout after her.
He simply took out his phone and called Olivia Grant.
I watched his expression become serious.
"Olivia, we may have a problem."
He listened for a moment.
Then continued.
"There's a chance Diane is moving or destroying financial records."
I felt my stomach tighten.
I looked toward Marcus.
He stood beside the courthouse entrance, staring at the elevator where his mother had disappeared.
For the first time, he looked like a man who had finally realized how dangerous his own silence had been.
I approached him.
"Marcus?"
He turned.
His eyes were red.
"Nia."
I swallowed.
"Do you know what files your mother was talking about?"
He shook his head.
"No."
Then he hesitated.
"Wait."
My heart began pounding.
"What?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"She has a private office at the old Whitmore property."
I frowned.
"The house on Briarwood Road?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I remembered that house.
It was where Marcus grew up.
A beautiful estate with tall iron gates and a long driveway.
Diane rarely allowed visitors inside her private office.
Even Marcus wasn't welcome there.
He had once joked that his mother guarded that room like a bank vault.
Now the joke didn't seem funny.
Marcus continued.
"She keeps business records there."
Dad approached.
"Does she have documents related to Nia's trust?"
Marcus looked ashamed.
"I don't know."
Dad studied him.
"Think carefully."
My husband closed his eyes.
Then whispered,
"She asked me to deliver some boxes last month."
I felt sick.
"What boxes?"
"Financial records. I didn't look inside."
I stared at him.
"Marcus..."
He lowered his head.
"I know."
I wanted to scream.
How many times had he helped Diane without asking questions?
How many times had he trusted her while she quietly planned to control our lives?
But anger wouldn't recover the documents.
So I took a breath.
"Tell Olivia everything."
Marcus nodded.
"I will."
That afternoon, Olivia and her team began reviewing the available records.
The bank had already flagged the attempted transfer.
Several suspicious authorizations were under investigation.
And Diane's actions at the hotel had created a clear timeline showing her attempts to pressure me.
But then Olivia discovered something unexpected.
She called Dad while I was feeding Grace.
I watched his expression change.
"What do you mean?"
He listened.
Then looked toward me.
My stomach tightened.
"Daddy?"
He held up one finger.
Olivia continued speaking.
Finally, Dad said,
"Send me everything."
He ended the call.
I stared at him.
"What happened?"
He sat beside me.
"Nia, Olivia found another company connected to Diane."
I frowned.
"Another company?"
He nodded.
"Whitmore Legacy Partners."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What does it do?"
"According to the filings, it was created to manage family investments."
I swallowed.
"And?"
Dad's expression hardened.
"It has received substantial payments from businesses connected to your trust."
My heart pounded.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Daddy."
He took a breath.
"More than nine hundred thousand dollars over several years."
I stared at him.
The room seemed to tilt.
Nine hundred thousand dollars.
I had no idea that amount of money had been moving through accounts connected to my name.
"How?"
Dad shook his head.
"That's what we're investigating."
I looked down at Grace.
She was nursing peacefully.
Her tiny hand rested against my chest.
I felt tears rise.
"Dad, I never wanted any of this."
He looked at me gently.
"I know."
"I never cared about Marcus's family's money."
"I know."
I swallowed.
"I just wanted a husband who loved me."
Dad's eyes filled.
He took my hand.
"Sweetheart, you deserved that."
I began crying.
He continued.
"And you still do."
Later that evening, Marcus called.
His voice sounded strained.
"Nia, I found something."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"I went through my old emails."
I sat up.
"And?"
"Mom sent me documents about the trust before our wedding."
I froze.
"Before our wedding?"
He nodded.
"I didn't understand them then."
My heart pounded.
"What documents?"
He hesitated.
"An investment proposal."
I closed my eyes.
"Marcus, what kind of proposal?"
His voice broke.
"One that depended on me marrying you."
I couldn't breathe.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I whispered,
"What?"
Marcus began crying.
"Nia, I swear I didn't know what she was planning."
I stared at the wall.
"Read it to me."
He swallowed.
Then read several lines.
The proposal described potential access to investment relationships and trust-related opportunities if Marcus married into the Brooks family.
My hands began trembling.
Our marriage.
Our vows.
Our future.
Diane had discussed them like a business opportunity.
I felt sick.
"Did you know she was thinking about my money?"
Marcus answered,
"I knew she wanted our families to become closer financially."
I closed my eyes.
"Marcus..."
He began sobbing.
"But I loved you. I still do."
I believed that part.
And somehow, it made everything hurt more.
Because loving me hadn't stopped him from allowing his mother to use me.
I took a shaky breath.
"Send the emails to Olivia."
He nodded.
"I will."
"And Marcus?"
"Yes?"
"Don't contact your mother about them."
He was quiet.
Then answered,
"I won't."
The next morning, investigators obtained access to additional business records through appropriate legal procedures.
Olivia worked with forensic accountants to trace payments.
The findings were disturbing.
Diane had been using shell companies to move money.
Some funds were connected to legitimate business transactions.
Others lacked supporting documentation.
Several invoices appeared to be fabricated.
Dad sat beside me as Olivia explained.
"This wasn't a single mistake."
I looked at her.
"What was it?"
She answered carefully.
"A pattern of financial misconduct."
My stomach tightened.
"And my trust?"
"Some transactions may have been designed to create access to assets connected to it."
I felt sick.
Olivia continued.
"We need more evidence before drawing final conclusions."
I nodded.
I wanted truth.
Not guesses.
Then she showed me a scanned document.
It was dated eight months before my wedding.
At the top was a title.
FAMILY ALLIANCE STRATEGY.
I stared at it.
The document listed potential benefits of a marriage between Marcus Whitmore and Nia Brooks.
My name appeared beside estimated asset values.
My father's company.
My trust.
My future inheritance.
I covered my mouth.
I felt as though someone had taken every romantic memory and stained it.
The first dinner.
The flowers.
The proposal.
The wedding.
Had Diane seen all of it as an investment?
I began crying.
Dad pulled me close.
"I'm sorry, baby."
I shook my head.
"I feel used."
He held me tighter.
Then Olivia turned another page.
Her expression changed.
"Nia, there's something else."
I wiped my face.
"What?"
She pointed to a section near the bottom.
It listed a projected event.
Birth of first child.
Below it was a note about expanded family control over assets through guardianship and trust structures.
My blood ran cold.
I stared at the words.
Then at Grace.
Diane hadn't begun planning after my daughter was born.
She had been waiting for her.
May you like
And suddenly, the slap in the hotel lobby felt like something much larger than a moment of cruelty.
It was what happened when I refused to surrender the child Diane believed would give her control.
