There was a long pause.
“I know Daniel has been taking money. I know Vanessa has been helping him. But I don't believe Marcus understands everything they've done.”
Marcus looked up.
Andre watched him carefully.
Evelyn continued.
“Daniel came to my house one evening and told me that Marcus had asked him to handle some financial matters. He said Marcus was too busy to deal with them personally. I believed him at first.”
A faint sound of movement came through the recording.
“Then he showed me documents. Documents that made it look as though Marcus had agreed to use my property as security.”
Marcus's face tightened.
“I asked Marcus about it. He told me he had never seen the papers. I believed him.”
Patricia looked at Marcus.
He was staring at the recorder.
Evelyn's voice became softer.
“I asked Daniel to explain. He smiled and told me I was worrying too much. He said he was protecting Marcus. He said the company was growing, and everyone had to make sacrifices.”
The recording paused.
Then Evelyn said something that made Danielle grip the edge of her chair.
“He told me that if I continued asking questions, Marcus would be the one who suffered.”
Marcus looked at Andre.
Andre didn't move.
Evelyn continued.
“I don't know what he meant. But I know my son. I know his weaknesses. He trusts people too easily when they tell him they believe in him.”
Marcus swallowed.
“I want you to understand that I am not angry with you, baby. I'm angry that someone used your love and your trust against you.”
The room was silent.
Then came the final part.
“I have one more thing to tell you. Something I discovered only yesterday.”
Patricia leaned forward.
Marcus stopped breathing.
Evelyn's voice trembled.
“Daniel is not the person who started this.”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
Patricia paused the recording.
She looked at him.
“Are you ready?”
Marcus nodded.
She pressed play.
Evelyn continued.
“The person who first gave Daniel access to my financial information was someone I trusted long before I knew Daniel. Someone who knew our family. Someone who had been coming into my home for years.”
The recording crackled.
Then Evelyn whispered:
“And Marcus, I think you know her too.”
The audio stopped.
Patricia looked at the three of them.
Marcus felt his heart pounding.
“Who?”
Patricia didn't answer.
Instead, she opened a folder and placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Evelyn standing in front of her old house.
Beside her was a woman.
Marcus stared at the picture.
His face drained of color.
He knew her.
He knew her very well.
It was his aunt.
His mother's younger sister.
Monica Reed.
Marcus hadn't spoken to Monica in almost two years.
Their relationship had deteriorated after Evelyn's funeral.
Monica had accused him of keeping certain family belongings that should have been divided among relatives.
Marcus had accused her of appearing only when money was involved.
They argued.
They exchanged angry messages.
Eventually, they stopped communicating.
But Monica had always been part of his life.
She had attended his childhood birthdays, helped Evelyn raise him, and sometimes stayed with him when his mother worked night shifts.
He remembered her teaching him how to ride a bicycle.
He remembered her taking him to the movies.
He remembered her telling him that he was the strongest boy she knew.
And he remembered something else.
After Evelyn died, Monica had asked him to sign several documents.
She had said they were necessary to close the estate.
Marcus had been exhausted.
He had barely slept for days.
He had signed them without reading carefully.
Now he understood why his mother had written that she was afraid of someone close to him.
His aunt had access to everything.
The family.
The house.
The documents.
And his trust.
“Why would she do this?” he whispered.
Patricia folded her hands.
“We don't know the entire story yet.”
“She's my aunt.”
“I understand.”
“She helped raise me.”
“I know.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No. You don't understand.”
His voice cracked.
“She was there when my father left. She helped my mother. She was at every birthday. She held me when I cried.”
Danielle reached for his hand.
He pulled away.
Not because he didn't want her comfort.
Because he couldn't bear to be touched.
He stood and walked toward the window.
For a long moment, he stared at the traffic below.
Then he turned.
“Where is she?”
Patricia looked at him.
“Monica?”
“Yes.”
“We have an address.”
“Give it to me.”
“Marcus, I don't think you should confront her alone.”
He looked at Andre.
“I'm not asking for permission.”
Andre stood.
“Then I'm coming with you.”
Monica lived in a large house outside Atlanta.
It was a beautiful property with white columns, a stone driveway, and carefully maintained gardens.
Marcus remembered visiting as a child.
He remembered running across the lawn while Monica watched from the porch.
He remembered the smell of her cooking.
He remembered how she used to call him her little champion.
Now, as he stood outside the front door, he felt like a stranger.
Andre remained beside him.
Danielle had stayed at Patricia's office to review the remaining documents.
Marcus knocked.
A moment later, Monica opened the door.
She looked surprised.
Then she smiled.
“Marcus?”
He didn't return the smile.
“Can we talk?”
“Of course, baby.”
She stepped aside.
He entered.
The house looked almost exactly as he remembered it.
The same paintings.
The same furniture.
The same family photographs.