Chapter 17 - The Family MeetingDenise called a family meeting without asking Marcus.
He found out because three relatives texted him Saturday morning.
Your mom says there’s been a misunderstanding.
Call Aunt Cheryl.
Don’t let that girl break this family apart.
That girl.
His wife.
The mother of his son.
Marcus stared at the messages.
Then one arrived from his cousin Terrence.
Sunday dinner at Mom’s. Denise wants everybody there. Says Nia accused her of stealing after baby drama.
Marcus called Denise.
She answered immediately.
“So you can answer me now.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to stop lies from spreading.”
“You’re the one spreading them.”
“I am defending myself.”
“By discussing my marriage with relatives?”
“She already brought Tasha into it.”
“Nia’s sister walked into a hospital room where I was accusing my wife of cheating.”
“You keep exaggerating.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“No.”
“What?”
“I’m not coming.”
Silence.
“You need to.”
“No.”
“If you let Nia control this—”
“This is not Nia.”
“Everything has been Nia since she joined that company.”
Marcus’s voice became cold.
“That sentence is exactly why I’m not coming.”
He ended the call.
Then he called Nia.
“She scheduled a family meeting.”
Nia laughed softly.
“Of course she did.”
“I’m not going.”
Tasha, audible in the background, said, “Wrong.”
Marcus frowned.
“What?”
Nia sighed.
“Tasha thinks we should.”
“Why?”
Her sister took the phone.
“Because Denise is framing silence as guilt.”
“I don’t care what cousins think.”
“You should care if she’s creating witnesses to a false story.”
Marcus paused.
Tasha continued.
“You don’t discuss confidential financial details. You don’t accuse her of crimes. You correct the marriage story.”
Marcus looked toward Noah’s empty nursery.
“What if Nia doesn’t want to go?”
Nia’s voice returned.
“I’m going.”
He closed his eyes.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because I’m tired of being discussed in rooms I’m not in.”
Sunday evening, Nia arrived at Denise’s house carrying Noah.
Tasha walked beside her.
Marcus was already there.
Not inside.
Waiting on the porch.
When Nia approached, he looked surprised.
“You look good.”
She wore a simple black sweater and jeans.
Her curls were tied back.
Postpartum exhaustion still lived beneath her eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Sorry.”
They entered together.
The dining room was full.
Aunts.
Cousins.
Raymond Price.
Nia had never met Denise’s brother more than twice.
Now she noticed him differently.
Broad shoulders.
Expensive watch.
Avoidant eyes.
Denise stood at the head of the table.
Her face tightened when she saw Tasha.
“This is family.”
Tasha removed her coat.
“So am I.”
Marcus almost smiled.
Denise looked at Noah.
“Can I hold my grandson?”
Nia hesitated.
Then shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
A murmur moved through the room.
Denise’s eyes glistened.
“See?”
Marcus stepped forward.
“No.”
Everyone quieted.
“My mother called this meeting because she says Nia accused her of stealing after I requested a DNA test.”
Denise interrupted.
“Marcus—”
“No.”
His voice stayed calm.
“The DNA test was my decision.”
Nia looked at him.
“I handled it cruelly. Noah is my biological son. Nia never cheated on me.”
Raymond shifted in his chair.
Marcus continued.
“The financial review began before the paternity conflict. Nia identified accounting irregularities while doing company work.”
Denise crossed her arms.
“Accounting irregularities is a polite way to say she thinks I’m a criminal.”
Rachel’s advice echoed in Marcus’s head.
Do not characterize beyond evidence.
“We have hired an independent forensic accountant.”
Someone asked, “Why?”
“Because several related-party transactions were not properly disclosed under our operating agreement.”
Denise laughed bitterly.
“You hear him? He sounds like a lawyer.”
Marcus looked directly at her.
“I’m trying to stop sounding like a frightened son.”
The room went silent.
Nia felt the sentence.
Denise did too.
Her face hardened.
“I sacrificed everything for you.”
“I know.”
“And this is how you repay me?”
“This is not repayment.”
“You removed me from my company.”
“Temporarily, pending review.”
“My company.”
“Our company.”
Raymond finally spoke.
“Maybe everybody needs to cool down.”
Tasha looked at him.
“You own D&W Property Services?”
The room changed.
Raymond’s face tightened.
Denise stared at Tasha.
“That is confidential.”
Tasha smiled without warmth.
“Public registration isn’t confidential.”
Raymond stood.
“I’m not doing this.”
Marcus looked at him.
“Sit down.”
Raymond stared.
Marcus had never spoken to his uncle like that.
After a moment, Raymond sat.
Marcus continued.
“Did D&W perform one hundred sixty-four thousand dollars of work for Walker Restoration?”
Raymond looked at Denise.
Wrong move.
Everyone saw it.
Denise snapped.
“This is exactly why this meeting was a mistake.”
Nia almost laughed.
“You called it.”
Denise turned on her.
“You think you won?”
Nia went still.
Denise continued.
“You walked into my son’s life, then my company, and started pulling things apart you didn’t understand.”
Nia adjusted Noah safely against her chest.
“I wasn’t trying to win.”
“You wanted control.”
“No.”
“You wanted Marcus to choose you.”
Nia looked at Marcus.
Then back at Denise.
“I wanted my husband to trust me.”
The room became painfully quiet.
Denise’s eyes flashed.
“He had reasons not to.”
Marcus stepped between them.
“No.”
Denise stared at him.
“You gave me edited screenshots,” he said.
A cousin whispered, “What?”
Marcus continued.
“You sent them anonymously from your own old phone.”
Denise’s face went white.
Raymond stood again.
“Denise.”
She spun toward him.
“Shut up.”
Too late.
Everyone heard the fear.
Nia watched Raymond.
His eyes moved toward the side door.
Tasha noticed too.
Raymond grabbed his jacket.
Marcus said, “Where are you going?”
Raymond ignored him.
As he reached the hallway, Denise shouted:
“You promised you deleted the account records.”
The room froze.
Raymond stopped.
Denise covered her mouth.
Tasha slowly looked at Marcus.
Nia’s heartbeat thundered.
Nobody needed to ask which account.
Raymond turned back.
His face was gray.
Marcus spoke softly.
“What records?”
Raymond said nothing.
Denise began crying.
Not elegantly.
Not strategically.
She sank into a chair.
And for the first time since the hospital, everyone in the room understood the same thing at once.
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There was no misunderstanding.
There was evidence Denise had been afraid would survive.
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