Chapter 7 - The Man Who Tried to Run Away
I felt my stomach drop.
"Leave the state?"
My mother began crying.
"Marcus packed two suitcases this morning."
I gripped the phone.
"Where is he going?"
"I don't know."
"Did you ask him?"
"He said he needed time to think."
I almost laughed.
After everything he had done, he needed time?
Tasha needed her college money.
She needed answers about the loan application.
She needed to know whether the remaining trust funds were safe.
And Marcus wanted to drive away.
"Mom, why are you telling me this?"
Nia hesitated.
"Because I think he's going to leave me too."
Her voice broke.
For a moment, I felt sympathy.
Then I remembered Tasha.
"Have you told Daniel Brooks?"
"No."
"You need to."
"Maya..."
"Mom, please. If you really want to help, stop protecting him."
She remained silent.
Then she whispered:
"You're right."
I gave the phone to Evelyn.
She took down the information and contacted Daniel.
He advised that the relevant financial information should be provided to investigators and that steps to preserve recoverable assets should be handled through the proper legal process.
He didn't promise that Marcus could be stopped from traveling.
But he made one thing clear.
Trying to leave wouldn't erase financial obligations or legal responsibility.
Later that day, we learned that Marcus had contacted the dealership.
The Highlander was still registered in his name.
He had asked about selling it back.
The dealership couldn't simply reverse the entire transaction, but the vehicle could potentially be sold for less than its original purchase price.
I stared at the information.
All those balloons.
The giant red bow.
The neighbors watching.
The photographs Mom had planned to post online.
And now Marcus wanted to turn the car back into cash.
It had never really been about my happiness.
It had been about what he could display.
What he could control.
What he could make people believe.
That realization hurt.
But it also freed me from something.
I no longer wanted the car.
Not even a little.
The next morning, Marcus appeared at Evelyn's house again.
This time, he didn't ring the bell.
He stood on the sidewalk and called Tasha.
She answered on speakerphone while we sat together in the living room.
"Baby," he said, "I need to talk to you."
Tasha looked at Evelyn.
She nodded encouragingly.
"I'm listening."
Marcus sighed.
"This situation has gotten out of control."
Tasha remained silent.
"I'm willing to work something out."
"What kind of arrangement?"
"I'll put money back into the trust."
My sister's face changed.
"All of it?"
"Eventually."
"When?"
"We need to be realistic."
Tasha swallowed.
"Are you selling the car?"
"Yes."
"Will you give the proceeds to the trust?"
Marcus hesitated.
"I have expenses."
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Even now, he was thinking about himself first.
Tasha's voice became steady.
"Dad, did you use my money without permission?"
He sighed.
"We've been over this."
"Please answer."
"I managed the trust the way I thought was best."
"Buying Maya a car wasn't best for me."
Marcus raised his voice.
"Do you want your sister to suffer?"
I sat forward.
Tasha looked at me.
Then she said something that made my eyes fill.
"Maya didn't ask for that car."
Marcus fell silent.
"She's the only person in that house who defended me."
My throat tightened.
Tasha continued.
"And she gave it back the moment she found out where the money came from."
Marcus said nothing.
"So don't use her against me."
For several seconds, all I could hear was his breathing.
Then he spoke.
"If you keep pushing this, you could lose me forever."
Tasha began crying.
But her answer was clear.
"Dad, I already lost the father I thought I had."
She ended the call.
I held her while she cried.
Evelyn sat beside us.
Nobody told Tasha to calm down.
Nobody said she was being dramatic.
Nobody suggested that keeping peace was more important than telling the truth.
We simply stayed with her.
That evening, Mom arrived carrying a cardboard box.
Inside were financial records from her business.
Invoices.
Account statements.
Emails.
She had also brought a copy of a message Marcus had sent her.
It referenced the Highlander sale and a proposed transfer of proceeds to an account outside Georgia.
Daniel reviewed the information.
He explained that it could help establish what Marcus intended to do with the money.
Nia sat silently while he spoke.
For the first time, I saw her listening without trying to control the conversation.
Afterward, she turned toward Tasha.
"I owe you an apology."
Tasha didn't move.
Nia continued.
"I knew the money came from your trust. I accepted Marcus's explanation because it benefited me."
Her voice cracked.
"And I treated you unfairly for years."
Tasha looked down.
"I know."
"I don't expect you to forgive me."
"Good."
Nia nodded through her tears.
"I deserved that."
I watched my mother carefully.
She wasn't defending herself.
But I still didn't know whether this change would last.
Words were easy.
Real accountability took longer.
The following week, Daniel filed the necessary court petition concerning Marcus's management of the trust.
He sought an accounting, protection of the remaining funds, and removal of Marcus as trustee.
An emergency hearing was scheduled.
Meanwhile, investigators continued reviewing the disputed signatures and loan application.
Marcus hired an attorney.
He denied intentionally misusing the trust.
He claimed the transfers had been part of an informal family financial plan.
But the records told a different story.
And the hearing was approaching.
The night before it, Tasha sat beside me on Evelyn's porch.
"What if the judge believes him?" she whispered.
I looked at her.
"Then we keep telling the truth."
She nodded.
A moment later, her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
"What?" I asked.
She held it toward me.
An email from the lender.
The sixty-thousand-dollar loan application had been rejected.
No loan had been funded.
But the fraud review had uncovered something else.
The identity verification had been submitted using an email address registered to Marcus.
And the lender had preserved the submission records.
Tasha stared at the message.
Then she whispered:
"He really did it."
I squeezed her hand.
May you like
Tomorrow, Marcus would have to answer questions in front of someone he couldn't silence.
A judge.
