Chapter 5 - “One More Week”Marcus did not sleep after leaving Briarwood.
He kept seeing the bathroom handle move.
Daniel’s footsteps.
Vanessa’s face.
The word deed.
At twenty, Marcus had believed adults in expensive houses understood what they were doing.
Then he met Vanessa.
She made him feel older.
Important.
Chosen.
The first time they spoke at the fitness club, Vanessa asked whether he was in college.
“Architecture.”
“Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“Community college first.”
She smiled.
“Smart.”
No one at the club talked to Marcus that way.
Most wealthy members barely looked at him.
Vanessa did.
Two weeks later, coffee.
Then dinner.
Then a hotel.
By the time Marcus learned Daniel existed, he already knew Vanessa was married.
She told him the marriage was over emotionally.
Separate bedrooms.
Financial negotiation.
Only paperwork remaining.
Marcus believed enough of it because he wanted to.
Now he sat inside his rented bedroom staring at Vanessa’s message.
You need to calm down.
Marcus typed:
Is Daniel transferring the house to you?
No answer.
He typed again.
You told me it was divorce stuff.
Vanessa called.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m asking.”
“By text?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A lot.”
Marcus stared at the wall.
“Are you trying to steal his house?”
Vanessa exhaled sharply.
“Stop saying stupid things.”
“Then answer.”
“I’m married to him.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I have rights.”
“You said you were negotiating.”
“I am.”
“Does Daniel know?”
Silence.
Marcus stood.
“Vanessa.”
“He knows I want security.”
“Does he know about the deed?”
“Not yet.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Jesus.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“He almost caught me hiding in his bathroom while his lawyer was calling about a fake house transfer.”
“It isn’t fake.”
“He said he didn’t authorize it!”
Vanessa’s voice hardened.
“You don’t understand marriage law.”
“And you do?”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“Better than you.”
The insult landed.
Marcus became quiet.
Vanessa immediately softened.
“Baby.”
He hated that word suddenly.
“I’m trying to build something for us.”
“With his money?”
“With what I earned by spending seven years supporting a man who treats me like a guest.”
Marcus had heard this before.
Daniel controlled everything.
Daniel humiliated her with a prenup.
Daniel cared more about work than marriage.
Daniel kept Vanessa financially dependent.
Yet Marcus had seen her car.
Her clothes.
The club membership.
The hotel suites.
Dependent did not look like anything Marcus recognized.
Still, money could be complicated.
Marcus said:
“I don’t want to be involved in documents.”
“You’re not.”
“What about the payments?”
Silence.
“What payments?”
“The money you sent me.”
“That was mine.”
“You labeled it consulting.”
“So?”
“I didn’t consult.”
“You helped me with photographs.”
“Once.”
Vanessa laughed softly.
“You’re worried about taxes now?”
“I’m worried about everything.”
She became cold again.
“Marcus.”
“What?”
“You wanted a life with me.”
“I still—”
“Then stop panicking the first time it becomes difficult.”
He stared at the phone.
“The first time?”
“I almost got caught in a bathroom.”
“You didn’t.”
“Because his phone rang.”
“And now you’re safe.”
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Maybe we should stop until you’re actually separated.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa said:
“One more week.”
“What happens in a week?”
“Daniel meets his lawyer.”
“And?”
“He signs.”
Marcus felt cold.
“What?”
“The estate changes.”
“So you are getting the house.”
“I’m getting security.”
“And then?”
“Then I file.”
There.
Not negotiation.
Sequence.
“Does he know you’re filing?”
“No.”
Marcus sat slowly.
Vanessa continued:
“I need you to trust me.”
Marcus thought of the handle.
The fake consulting invoices.
Daniel downstairs searching for an original deed while Vanessa rushed Marcus out the back door.
“What if I don’t?”
Her voice changed.
“You’ve accepted almost fifty thousand dollars from my company.”
Marcus stopped breathing.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you shouldn’t suddenly decide you’re morally superior.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No.”
A pause.
“I’m reminding you we made choices together.”
Marcus felt fear move through him.
Not of Daniel.
Of Vanessa.
He had believed he was her escape.
Now he understood he might also be her insurance.
If the plan failed, she had money transfers bearing Marcus’s name.
Sham invoices.
An affair.
Maybe enough to say he manipulated her.
Maybe enough to say he stole.
Marcus whispered:
“I have to go.”
“Marcus—”
He ended the call.
A minute later, a message arrived.
Delete this conversation.
Then:
And every old one.
Marcus stared.
His thumb hovered over the screen.
He did not delete anything.
May you like
For the first time since meeting Vanessa—
Marcus began taking screenshots.
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