PART 4
“Who is Marcus Reed?” I asked again.
Andrew didn’t answer.
He just stood there in the kitchen, one hand gripping the edge of the counter so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Andrew.”
His eyes finally met mine.
“I never wanted you to know about him.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I know.”
“Then give me one.”
He looked toward the hallway.
For a second, I thought he might run.
Instead, he pulled out a chair and sat down.
“Marcus was my business partner.”
I stared at him.
“You don’t have a business partner.”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Before we got married.”
I frowned.
“That was twelve years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me the business failed.”
“It did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You told me you lost money and walked away.”
“I did.”
“Then why are you still paying him?”
Andrew looked down.
“Because I didn’t walk away.”
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?”
He rubbed his face.
“I made a mistake.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“A serious one.”
I waited.
He finally looked up.
“Marcus and I borrowed money to start a construction company.”
I remembered.
Andrew had told me about it early in our marriage.
He had said it was a stupid idea.
He had said he lost everything.
He had said Marcus had disappeared with the remaining money.
And because I loved him, I had never questioned the story.
I had even comforted him.
I had told him that failure didn’t make him a failure.
I had told him we could build a life together.
Apparently, I had been comforting a man who had never told me the truth.
“What happened?” I asked.
Andrew’s voice became barely audible.
“We took out private loans.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
My eyes widened.
“And?”
“Marcus convinced me to put some properties up as collateral.”
“What properties?”
He looked at me.
“His family’s property.”
I waited.
Then I understood.
“And mine?”
His silence answered.
“You used my property?”
“No.”
“You used my name?”
“No.”
“Then what did you use?”
Andrew looked down.
“Your mother’s beach property.”
I felt something inside me break.
“You had no right.”
“I know.”
“You had absolutely no right.”
“I know.”
“You sold it?”
“No.”
“Then what did you do?”
He swallowed.
“I pledged it.”
I stared at him.
“To Marcus?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“To a lender Marcus introduced me to.”
I stepped backward.
“Then the $186,000…”
“Wasn’t a payment to my sister.”
“No.”
“Wasn’t for the house.”
“No.”
“It was for this debt.”
Andrew nodded.
I laughed.
It wasn’t because anything was funny.
It was the kind of laugh that escapes when the truth becomes too absurd to process.
“So you stole money from our accounts for years because you were hiding a debt from twelve years ago?”
“I was trying to fix it.”
“You didn’t fix anything.”
“I thought I could.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“You stole.”
“Yes.”
