Chapter 7: Six Months of Lies
I stared at the handwritten note until the words stopped looking like words.
As agreed, Marcus will not be informed until after closing.
Six months.
Tasha had told me David contacted her last winter. She had described the financial arrangement as something that developed gradually, a series of bad decisions made while she was drowning in debt.
But the date on page six suggested something much more deliberate.
I printed the document and carried it downstairs.
Tasha was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when I entered, then immediately locked the screen.
“What happened?”” she asked.
I placed the document on the coffee table.
“Tell me about the date on this page.””
She glanced down.
Her face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
“That isn't an answer.””
She picked up the paper and read the handwritten note. Her fingers began trembling.
“Marcus, I can explain.””
I pulled a chair closer.
“Then explain.””
She put the paper down.
“I never agreed to steal your company.””
“I didn't use the word steal.””
“But that's what you're thinking.””
“I'm thinking you told me David's proposal started recently, and this document suggests otherwise.””
She looked toward the window.
I waited.
Finally, she said, “David contacted me almost a year ago.””
The room seemed to shrink around us.
“You told me it was last winter.””
“I didn't want you to know how long we'd been talking.””
“Why?””
“Because I knew you'd be angry.””
I let out a bitter laugh.
“You hid a relationship with your ex-boyfriend, gave him my business records, and helped him pursue unauthorized financing. You think the duration is what makes me angry?””
She wiped her cheeks.
“We weren't having an affair.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“We met a few times. We talked about my business. He said he could help me.””
“And the document?””
She picked it up again.
“I signed that note.””
My chest tightened.
“You signed it?””
“Yes.””
“What did you mean by agreeing that I wouldn't be informed until after closing?””
She shook her head.
“David said you would reject the proposal if I told you too early. He thought we should finalize everything first and present it to you when it was ready.””
“Present what? A loan in my company's name? A transfer of ownership I never approved?””
“I didn't know the paperwork would go that far!””
I leaned forward.
“You signed a document saying I shouldn't be informed. What did you think that meant?””
She began crying.
“I thought you'd be angry about me working with David. I thought you'd accuse me of trying to interfere in your business.””
“Because you were interfering in my business.””
She covered her face.
For a few seconds, I considered walking away. There was a part of me that still wanted to believe this was a misunderstanding, that some missing explanation would make the woman I'd loved recognizable again.
But the evidence kept accumulating.
I asked the question that had been burning in my mind since I saw the date.
“Did you and David plan this before he approached the lender?””
Tasha lowered her hands.
“We discussed creating a company that could partner with yours.””
“Without telling me.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because I wanted something of my own.””
“You could have started another business.””
“I did. It failed.””
“So you decided to take part of mine?””
“No!”” She stood abruptly.
“I didn't want to take your company. I wanted to be part of something successful. Every time I talked about starting a business, you gave me advice about budgets, market research, and risk. I felt like you didn't believe in me.””
I stared at her.
“I offered to help you.””
“You offered to tell me what I was doing wrong!””
“Because your business was losing money!””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“And you were making money. I hated feeling like I needed you.””
There it was again.
Her shame.
Her resentment.
The desperate need to appear independent while quietly relying on the very success she refused to acknowledge.
I took a slow breath.
“You could have told me you were struggling.””
“I didn't want you to think I was a failure.””
“So instead, you called me one.””
She looked away.
I continued.
“You made jokes about my income when my company was barely surviving. You told people you were carrying me. You let your friends believe you paid for everything. Was any of that true?””
She shook her head.
“Not the way I made it sound.””
“Then why?””
“Because it made me feel important.””
Her confession hung between us.
I had no response.
After a moment, she sat down again.
“David said I could have a real role in the investment company. He said I'd manage the administrative side, coordinate projects, and get twenty-five percent of the profits. I thought if I could prove myself, I wouldn't have to depend on you anymore.””
“Why did he need my signature?””
“He said your company would provide the financing and experience. His company would handle the investors.””
“But I never agreed.””
“I know.””
“Did you know the loan was $420,000?””
She shook her head.
“When did you find out?””
“Two weeks ago, when he showed me the paperwork.””
I stared at her.
“And you still went ahead?””
“He said the money wouldn't be released until the final review. He told me there was time to explain everything to you.””
“After closing.””
She lowered her eyes.
I stood and walked toward the kitchen.
My anger had reached a point where it no longer felt explosive. It felt heavy, like carrying something that would never become lighter no matter how long I held it.
My phone rang.
Nicole.
I answered immediately.
“Did you see the document?”” she asked.
“Yes. Tasha has admitted signing the note.””
Nicole was quiet for a moment.
“Then we need to preserve her statement and the original file. I'm also contacting the lender to request the complete submission history.””
“Can they tell us who uploaded the document?””
“They may be able to provide that information through their review. We shouldn't assume the handwritten note proves everything about the arrangement, but it's significant.””
“There's something else,” I said.
“Tasha says the discussions started nearly a year ago.””
Nicole exhaled slowly.
“That's important. Ask her to write down the timeline while it's fresh. She should be truthful and speak to her own attorney about her legal position.””
After we hung up, I returned to the living room.
Tasha was still sitting on the couch.
“Nicole wants you to document the timeline,” I told her.
“Is she going to report me?””
“I can't answer that.””
“Marcus, please. If I lose my job because of this, I'll have nothing.””
I stared at her.
“You were worried about losing your job while you were risking mine?””
“I know how that sounds.””
“Do you?””
She began crying again.
I sat across from her.
“Tasha, I'm going to ask you one more question. I need you to answer honestly.””
She nodded.
“Did you know David intended to use my signature on the guarantee?””
“No.””
“Did you know he intended to use my company as collateral?””
She hesitated.
“I knew he wanted the company involved.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“I thought you'd approve it eventually.””
“Did you know he was submitting documents as if I had already approved them?””
She looked at the floor.
Then she whispered, “I suspected.””
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“You suspected?””
“He told me not to worry about the signature. He said the lender had a way to verify everything and that we'd handle it if they asked questions.””
I stepped back from her.
“You suspected someone was using my signature without my permission, and you said nothing.””
She reached for me.
I moved away.
“Marcus, I was scared.””
“So was I. But I didn't solve my problems by putting yours at risk.””
She collapsed against the couch, sobbing.
I went upstairs and packed a bag.
When I returned, she was standing at the bottom of the staircase.
“Where are you going?””
“To my brother's house.””
“You're leaving me?””
“I need space.””
“Please don't do this tonight.””
I looked at her.
“You've had nearly a year to tell me the truth. I'm allowed to need one night.””
She stepped aside.
I walked toward the front door.
Just before I opened it, my phone vibrated.
Nicole had sent a message.
The lender has identified the person who uploaded the final authorization packet. It wasn't David.
I stopped.
A second message appeared.
The upload came from an account registered to someone inside your household.
I slowly turned toward Tasha.
May you like
She stood halfway down the hallway, her face drained of color.
“Marcus,” she whispered, “before you look at that email, there's something else I haven't told you.””
