Chapter 3: The House Built on a Lie
Aaliyah pressed the phone closer to her ear.
Attorney Evelyn Grant’s voice sharpened.
“Do not go back inside.
Are you somewhere safe?”
“I’m standing in my driveway.”
“Then get into your car and lock the doors.”
Marcus stepped closer.
“Who are you talking to?”
Aaliyah raised one hand.
“Stay back.”
Denise hurried down the front steps.
“Don’t make a scene over paperwork.”
“Paperwork?” Aaliyah stared at her.
“You tried to remove me from my own home.”
“It’s our home,” Marcus said.
“You’re twisting this.”
Evelyn heard him through the phone.
“Put me on speaker.”
Aaliyah tapped the screen.
“Marcus,” Evelyn said, “did Aaliyah sign a quitclaim deed in front of a notary yesterday?”
Marcus looked toward his mother.
“We discussed changing the title.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Denise folded her arms.
“A wife shouldn’t interrogate her husband in the street.”
Aaliyah’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“Did you copy my signature?”
Marcus reached for the device.
“Give me that.”
She stepped back and opened her car door.
“Touch my phone and I call the police.”
His hand stopped in midair.
Evelyn spoke again.
“Aaliyah, photograph the house, the vehicles, and everyone standing outside.
Then leave.”
Denise’s face changed.
“You attorneys turn every disagreement into a war.”
“No,” Aaliyah said.
“You started this before I walked through that door.”
A man appeared behind Denise.
It was Marcus’s uncle Leonard, who had barely spoken during dinner.
“Aaliyah,” he called, “wait.”
Denise spun around.
“Go back inside, Leonard.”
He walked into the driveway holding his own phone.
“I heard what you said about the deed.”
“You heard nothing,” Denise replied.
“I heard enough.”
Marcus pointed at him.
“This is between me and my wife.”
Leonard looked at the broken dishes visible through the doorway.
“Then why did your mother answer for you?”
Aaliyah got into her car and locked the doors.
Her hands trembled against the steering wheel.
“Drive to someone you trust,” Evelyn said through the speaker.
“Meet me at my office at eight tomorrow morning.”
“My friend Naomi lives twenty minutes away.”
“Go there.
Do not sign anything Marcus sends you.”
Marcus struck the driver’s window with his palm.
“Aaliyah, open the door.”
She lowered it one inch.
“Tell me why you wanted my name off the deed.”
“It was for refinancing.”
“You never mentioned refinancing.”
“We need money.”
“For what?”
Denise came to the window.
“Marcus has carried you long enough.”
Aaliyah stared at her.
“I paid the down payment with the money my grandmother left me.”
“And my son made that house a home,” Denise said.
“No.
My paycheck made the mortgage payment.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened.
“If you leave, don’t expect access to our accounts.”
Aaliyah looked directly at him.
“Are you threatening to take my money?”
“I’m telling you there are consequences for humiliating me.”
Leonard lifted his phone.
“I recorded that.”
Denise lunged toward him, but Leonard stepped away.
“Delete it!” she shouted.
Aaliyah started the engine.
Marcus bent toward the narrow opening in the window.
“Drive away, and this marriage is over.”
Aaliyah swallowed hard.
“You ended it when you signed my name.”
She drove to Naomi’s apartment without looking back.
Naomi opened the door in her robe and pulled Aaliyah inside.
“What happened?”
“My husband tried to take my house.”
Naomi held her by both shoulders.
“Then tonight you stay here.
Tomorrow, we make him explain every line.”
Aaliyah’s phone lit up before she could answer.
It was an alert from her bank.
She opened it, and the phone nearly slipped from her hand.
Naomi caught her wrist.
May you like
“Aaliyah?”
Their joint savings account—more than eighty thousand dollars—had been emptied ten minutes earlier.
