"Not necessarily. The property has changed hands since then. We'll need to evaluate your company's legal claims."
I nodded.
"What about the money Denise transferred?"
"We can trace the authorized and unauthorized transactions and determine the appropriate remedies."
I looked toward the dining room.
Denise had gone to stay with her sister temporarily after agreeing that the house needed some calm.
The girls remained with me for the weekend.
Their mother called them regularly.
I hadn't forbidden contact.
But I had made it clear that nobody would pressure Maya or use the girls to carry messages between adults.
Rachel opened another folder.
"There's something else."
I leaned forward.
"What?"
"Raymond's threats may support a separate investigation."
I nodded.
"He admitted demanding money."
"Yes, but we need the messages, transfer records, and any evidence showing exactly what he threatened."
I exhaled.
"Can we move forward?"
"Yes."
She paused.
"Marcus, I also need to discuss your marriage."
I stared at her.
"I know."
"You don't have to make a final decision today."
I looked down.
"But I need to make one soon."
Rachel nodded.
"I can arrange a meeting with a family-law attorney."
"Do it."
She closed her folder.
Then she asked, "How's Maya?"
I looked toward the staircase.
"She's trying to act like everything is fine."
Rachel's expression softened.
"That's a lot for a child to carry."
"I know."
"Have you arranged counseling?"
"Yes. Her first appointment is Monday."
Rachel smiled gently.
"Good."
After she left, I found Maya in the kitchen.
She was making sandwiches.
Three plates sat on the counter.
"Who are those for?" I asked.
She smiled shyly.
"Me, Tasha, and Lily."
I felt something warm settle in my chest.
"That sounds nice."
She hesitated.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Are Tasha and Lily going to move away?"
I sat beside her.
"I don't know yet. Their mother and I are working through what happens next."
Maya looked down.
"I don't want them to hate me."
I took her hand.
"Sweetheart, you haven't done anything wrong."
She nodded.
Then she whispered, "I think Tasha finally believes me."
I smiled.
"That's a good start."
That afternoon, the three girls spent hours together.
They watched movies.
Ordered pizza.
Talked about school.
At one point, I heard Lily laughing so loudly that Tasha told her to be quiet.
I stood in the hallway listening.
For the first time in months, the house sounded like a home.
But that evening, Denise called.
Her voice was strained.
"Marcus, I need to speak with you."
"What about?"
"The girls."
My chest tightened.
"Are they okay?"
"They're fine."
"Then what?"
She hesitated.
"Raymond contacted me again."
I closed my eyes.
"What did he want?"
"Money."
I stared at the wall.
"Denise, you need to stop handling this privately."
"I know."
Her voice broke.
"He's threatening to tell Tasha and Lily something."
I frowned.
"What?"
She began crying.
"Something about their childhood."
My stomach tightened.
"Denise, what are you talking about?"
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered, "Marcus, there's something I never told you about why Raymond and I separated."
I gripped the phone.
"What happened?"
She took a shaky breath.
"He didn't just leave us."
I waited.
"He used the girls' college savings to cover debts."
My blood ran cold.
"How much?"
"Almost everything."
I closed my eyes.
Denise continued.
"And I never told them."
I stared toward the living room, where Tasha and Lily were laughing with Maya.
The money.
The lies.
The fear.
Denise arrived the next morning looking like a woman who hadn't slept.
Her eyes were swollen.
Her locs were tied back.
She wore a plain gray sweater instead of the expensive outfits she usually preferred.
For the first time since our confrontation, she looked genuinely ashamed.
I met her in my office.
The girls were at school.
We had agreed to speak privately.
Denise sat across from me.
"Marcus, I don't know where to start."
"Start with the truth."
She nodded.
Then she began talking.
Years before our marriage, Raymond had invested money from Tasha and Lily's college accounts into a failing business.
He promised Denise he could replace it before anyone noticed.
Instead, the business collapsed.
Most of the savings disappeared.
Denise discovered what happened shortly before their divorce.
She was furious.
She threatened legal action.
Raymond promised repayment.
But the money never came.
After Denise met me, Raymond began contacting her again.
He knew I owned a successful construction company.
He knew I had property.
And he knew Denise wanted financial security for her daughters.
"He said Southcrest would help us recover what we lost," she whispered.
I stared at her.
"So you helped him purchase my company's building?"
She nodded.
"I thought we could make a profit."
"Using information I trusted you with."
Tears filled her eyes.
"Yes."
I looked away.
She continued.
"At first, I told myself it wasn't really hurting you. You wanted to sell the property anyway."
I felt anger rising.
"But you hid your financial interest."
"I know."
"And you let me negotiate without knowing the truth."
"I know."
I leaned forward.
"Denise, that wasn't a harmless secret."
She began crying.
"I understand that now."
I shook my head.
"No. You understood enough to hide it for six years."
She lowered her head.
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, "Raymond started demanding money after our wedding."
"Why?"
"He said I owed him part of the settlement."
"And you paid him?"
"Yes."
"With household money?"
She nodded.
I closed my eyes.
"Money meant for the children?"
Her voice broke.
"Yes."
I thought about Maya's notebook.
The denied school trips.
The broken glasses.
The old winter coat.
"Why Maya?" I asked.
Denise looked confused.
"What?"
"Why did you take from Maya instead of cutting back on expensive things for everyone?"
She stared at the floor.
Then she whispered, "Because I thought you would always provide for her."
I felt sick.
"You thought I would?"
"Yes."
"Even though you were telling her I didn't want to?"
She began sobbing.
"I was wrong."
I stared at her.
"You made Maya feel unwanted so your daughters could keep a lifestyle you couldn't afford."
Denise didn't argue.
"I know."
"You let her believe her own father had stopped caring."
She covered her face.
"I know."
I stood.
For six years, I had loved this woman.
I had defended her.
Trusted her.
Built a home with her.
Now I looked at her and saw someone who had repeatedly chosen her own comfort over a child's dignity.
"Denise, I can't continue this marriage."
She looked up sharply.
"Marcus, please."
I shook my head.
"I've thought about it carefully."