Chapter 2: My Wife's Missing Two Weeks
I didn't answer Nia's question.
Instead, I called Danielle.
She picked up before the first ring had finished.
"Marcus?""
"What's going on?""
"Are you alone?""
I looked at Nia.
"No.""
"Is Jordan there?""
My stomach tightened.
"Yes.""
A long silence followed.
Then Danielle whispered, "Oh, God. She actually brought him there.""
"What are you talking about?""
"Marcus, listen carefully. Don't let either of them take those documents away. And don't sign anything.""
I glanced at the papers in my hand.
"Danielle, what documents?""
"Did Nia show you the bank statements?""
"Yes.""
"Those aren't what you think they are.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"You're going to have to explain this.""
"Not over the phone. I need to come over.""
"Danielle—"
"Marcus, please. I found something in Mom's paperwork. Something that connects Nia to an account you don't know about.""
My heart began pounding.
"What account?""
She lowered her voice.
"Jordan's.""
I looked at him.
He was standing beside the bedroom door, pretending to examine his phone.
"Danielle, are you telling me my wife has been sending money to Jordan?""
"I don't know if she has. But I know somebody has.""
The call ended.
I stood completely still.
Nia took one step toward me.
"Marcus, what did she say?""
I slipped the phone into my pocket.
"She wants to come over.""
"Why?""
"Apparently, she has something to show me.""
Nia glanced at Jordan.
It was quick.
Almost invisible.
But I caught it.
And that tiny exchange told me more than either of their explanations had.
"Get out," I said.
Jordan frowned.
"Excuse me?""
"Leave my house.""
Nia immediately stepped forward.
"Marcus, we haven't finished talking.""
"Then you can talk to me after your ex-boyfriend leaves.""
Jordan grabbed his jacket.
"Look, I don't want to be involved in your personal problems.""
I gave him a cold smile.
"Funny. You seem pretty comfortable being involved in them.""
He headed toward the hallway.
At the bedroom door, he stopped.
"Marcus, I really think you should hear everything before making decisions.""
I pointed toward the stairs.
"Go.""
He left.
I heard the front door open and close.
Then I turned to Nia.
"Sit down.""
She stared at me.
"Don't talk to me like I'm a child.""
"Then stop treating me like a stranger in my own marriage.""
She crossed her arms but didn't move.
I placed the bank statements on the dresser.
"Let's start with something simple. Why did you contact Jordan instead of asking me about the account?""
Nia looked toward the window.
"Because I was afraid.""
"Of what?""
"Of losing everything.""
I shook my head.
"You mean losing money?""
"No. Losing the life we built.""
I stared at her.
"Those are two different things.""
She sat on the edge of the bed.
For a moment, she looked exhausted.
Her dark hair had fallen loose around her shoulders, and her eyes were swollen from crying.
I remembered when I first met her.
She had been working at a small marketing agency downtown. I was there for a client meeting, and she accidentally spilled coffee on my shirt.
She had apologized so many times that I finally bought her another coffee just to make her stop feeling embarrassed.
We laughed about it for weeks.
Now she was sitting on the same bed where we had once stayed awake until sunrise talking about our dreams.
And I couldn't recognize the woman in front of me.
"Marcus," she whispered, "I never wanted things to get this bad.""
"Then tell me the truth.""
She looked at me.
"Jordan contacted me first.""
I frowned.
"What?""
"Two weeks ago. He sent me a message.""
"What did he want?""
"He said he had information about you.""
I let out a humorless laugh.
"Of course he did.""
"He claimed you'd been moving money out of our joint savings.""
"That's ridiculous.""
"He showed me some documents.""
"Documents he apparently got from somewhere.""
Nia nodded.
"He said someone had given them to him.""
"Who?""
"I don't know.""
I stared at her.
"You expect me to believe you invited him into our home without asking where he got confidential financial information about your husband?""
"I know how it sounds.""
"It sounds like you trusted him more than you trusted me.""
She covered her face.
"I was trying to protect myself.""
"From your husband?""
She lowered her hands.
"Marcus, you don't understand. I grew up watching my father control every dollar my mother spent. I promised myself I'd never be in that position.""
I softened slightly.
I knew about her childhood.
Her father had been financially controlling, and her mother had stayed in an unhappy marriage for years because she had no independent savings.
I'd always tried to make sure Nia never felt trapped.
We had separate checking accounts.
A joint household account.
And equal access to our savings.
But apparently, none of that had been enough.
"Did I ever prevent you from accessing our money?"" I asked.
"No.""
"Did I ever refuse to show you our finances?""
She shook her head.
"Then why didn't you ask?""
She looked down.
"Because Jordan said you might be preparing to divorce me.""
I stared at her.
There it was.
The real reason.
Not the bank statements.
Not the suspicious transfers.
Fear planted by the one man who had already damaged our marriage once.
"And you believed him?""
"I didn't know what to believe.""
I sat in the armchair opposite her.
"Did Jordan tell you he still loved you?""
Nia's head snapped up.
"What?""
"Did he?""
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I stood.
"How long have you been seeing him?""
"Marcus!""
"I'm asking a question.""
"We haven't been seeing each other!""
"Have you met him outside this house?""
Silence.
"Nia.""
"Once.""
"When?""
"Last Thursday.""
"Where?""
"At a coffee shop.""
I looked at the clock.
It was nearly nine.
I had spent the entire afternoon at work believing I was coming home to the woman I loved.
Meanwhile, she had been meeting her ex-boyfriend.
"Anything else?""
She shook her head.
"Did you kiss him?""
"No!""
"Did he try?""
"Marcus, nothing happened.""
I laughed softly.
"That's becoming your favorite sentence.""
She stood and reached for my hand.
I pulled away.
"Please don't do that.""
Her eyes filled again.
"I love you.""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"I want to believe you.""
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang.
Danielle.
I went downstairs.
My sister stood on the porch holding a large brown envelope. Her coat was buttoned incorrectly, and her hair was damp from the rain.
She looked past me toward the staircase.
"Is she upstairs?""
"Yes.""
Danielle stepped inside.
"Did she show you the statements?""
I nodded.
She handed me the envelope.
"Then you need to see these.""
Inside were copies of bank records, photographs, and several printed emails.
I pulled out the first photograph.
It showed Jordan standing outside a bank.
The date was three months earlier.
The second showed Nia entering the same building.
The third showed them leaving together.
I looked at my sister.
"What is this?""
Danielle swallowed.
"Mom asked me to organize some paperwork before her surgery. I found a letter from the bank addressed to Nia.""
"What letter?""
"An application for a loan.""
I frowned.
"Why would Nia need a loan?""
"That's what I wanted to know.""
Danielle pulled another paper from the envelope.
It was a loan application.
The amount was $85,000.
The applicant's name was Nia Carter.
But the supporting documents included my employment information, my salary, and copies of my identification.
I felt my fingers go numb.
"She used my information?""
Danielle nodded.
"There's more.""
She handed me a final sheet.
It was a property valuation for our house.
My house.
The one I had purchased before our wedding.
The one where Nia and I had lived together for four years.
At the bottom was a handwritten note.
*Once the loan is approved, we can finally start over.*
I read it twice.
Then I looked at my sister.
"Who wrote this?""
Danielle's voice trembled.
"Jordan.""
A sound came from the staircase.
Nia was standing halfway down.
She had heard everything.
"Marcus," she said.
I turned toward her.
She looked at the envelope in my hands.
Then at Danielle.
May you like
And finally, she whispered the words that changed everything.
"You're not supposed to have those.""
