Chapter 4
I did not answer Tasha for twenty minutes.
I hated that I needed twenty minutes.
Some innocent part of me was still counting all the things Andre had given her that he had promised me.
A home.
A future.
A child.
Then I remembered she had just discovered those promises were built on lies.
I typed one question.
Are you safe right now?
Her answer came immediately.
Yes. I’m with my cousin.
I stared at those words until I could breathe normally.
Then I wrote, Please stay there.
Camille sat beside me without speaking.
“I feel awful,” I whispered.
“You’ve had an awful day.”
“I’m jealous.”
“You’re hurt.”
“There’s a baby.”
“A baby didn’t do this.”
I covered my face.
“I know.”
She waited until I lowered my hands.
“You can feel something ugly without becoming someone cruel.”
That sentence gave me enough strength to stand.
We went to the bank the next morning.
I barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Andre carrying my honeymoon mug.
The bank manager, Denise, brought us into a small office.
She listened while I explained the transfers and the credit account.
I kept expecting her to look at me like I was foolish.
She did not.
She asked clear questions.
I answered as carefully as I could.
The application had been submitted electronically.
It included financial records from my studio.
Records Andre had helped me scan.
The contact number was not mine.
The email address differed from my business address by one letter.
I looked at Camille.
Her face was steady, but her fingers tightened around her pen.
“That isn’t my email,” I said.
Denise made a note.
“We’ll open a formal review. I’ll explain what we can secure today and what needs further investigation.”
For the first time since the porch, there was a next step.
Not a feeling.
A step.
We changed access where we could, reviewed authorized users, and arranged alerts.
I left with a folder pressed against my chest.
It did not fix anything.
But it stopped me from feeling completely helpless.
Camille had booked an appointment with a lawyer named Evelyn Brooks.
I almost canceled.
Saying lawyer made the marriage feel finished.
Seeing the credit application made staying feel dangerous.
Evelyn let me tell the story without interruption.
Then she asked, “What do you need most immediately?”
I thought she meant revenge.
I almost said everything.
Instead, I heard myself answer, “I need my business to survive.”
She nodded.
“Then we start there.”
We discussed records, property, accounts, and how to communicate without getting dragged into arguments.
She told me not to sign anything Andre brought me.
I gave a tired laugh.
“I think I can manage that.”
Her expression softened.
“People sign under pressure for reasons that make sense in the moment. We’ll reduce the pressure.”
I liked her for saying we.
When we reached Camille’s house, Andre was waiting beside his car.
I stopped walking.
He looked terrible.
Yesterday, that would have broken my heart.
Today, I wondered whether he had practiced.
“Nia. Five minutes.”
Camille stepped beside me.
“He can email.”
“I’m talking to my wife.”
“And I’m standing next to my sister.”
He looked at me.
“Is this really how you want to do it?”
I almost answered the familiar question.
Almost defended my tone.
Almost explained why I deserved to be upset.
Instead, I said, “You opened credit in my business name.”
His expression shifted.
There it was again.
Calculation.
“You needed capital.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“You were struggling.”
“I was expanding.”
“We’re married. I was helping.”
“With an email address that wasn’t mine?”
He glanced at Camille.
“You’ve got her making everything sound criminal.”
My sister said nothing.
I took one step closer.
“Was the money for my studio?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Some of it.”
“How much?”
“We need to go through the numbers.”
“My lawyer will.”
The word landed.
His face hardened.
“You got a lawyer already?”
“Yes.”
“Seven years, and you don’t even give me a chance?”
I thought of Tasha standing in his doorway.
“You had eight months of chances.”
He looked away.
Then, quietly, “She’s pregnant.”
“I know.”
His eyes snapped back.
“She told you?”
“Yes.”
“You two need to stop talking.”
Something about that command steadied me.
We were useful to him only when we were separate.
“She can speak to anyone she wants,” I said.
Andre lowered his voice.
“You’re going to destroy that child’s life if you turn this into a public mess.”
I stared at him.
The baby was already a shield.
“You don’t get to use a child to silence me.”
Camille unlocked the front door.
I walked past him.
“Nia.”
I stopped without turning.
“I love you.”
My hand rested on the doorway.
For seven years, those words had been enough to soften me.
Now they made me tired.
“Then you should have protected me when I trusted you.”
Inside, Camille made me toast.
I ate because she asked.
That evening, Tasha called.
“I found something,” she said.
Her voice shook.
“What?”
“The agreement he gave me when I transferred the money.”
“Send it to my lawyer.”
“I will. But there’s a signature on it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
I closed my eyes.
“I never signed anything for you.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Then she read the sentence above my name.
I authorize the sale of my ownership interest.
For a moment, I could hear only my own breathing.
May you like
Andre had not merely built a second life.
He had started erasing me from the first.
