Chapter 13 - The Earnest Money
The duplex contract collapsed the following morning.
Keisha called Nia furious.
“He told the seller we had financing.”
“Did you?”
“I thought we had preapproval.”
“Did you sign a loan application?”
“Yes. For AKM.”
Nia closed her eyes.
“Did Andre contribute the money he said he would?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
The title company held the $12,000 earnest deposit while the parties disputed whether the financing contingency protected AKM.
Rachel explained that losing earnest money depended on the contract language, deadlines, and what representations had been made.
“This is not automatically lost,” she told Nia.
“But it could be.”
“Yes.”
“And the twelve thousand came from our joint savings.”
“Yes.”
Nia rubbed her forehead.
“How does somebody risk twelve thousand dollars and still complain about the price of milk?”
Rachel’s expression softened.
“The contradiction is emotional, but legally we stay with documentation.”
Nia almost smiled.
Rachel had become a useful counterweight to rage.
By Friday, Nia possessed eighteen months of statements.
She built a master spreadsheet.
Every suspicious transfer.
Every company.
Every date.
Every explanation Andre had given.
When she finished, the total was worse than she expected.
Direct transfers associated with Andre’s projects:
$8,500 to DW Consulting.
$12,000 earnest money.
$4,000 to Cole Performance Group.
$6,300 in Wells Family Ventures rent.
$3,000 in legal, filing, and inspection fees.
$7,250 in transfers to Keisha beyond formal child support.
Some transfers overlapped as money moved between accounts, so the total diversion could not simply be added.
Still, more than thirty thousand dollars of household cash had been moved through arrangements Nia never knew existed.
She stared at the screen.
Thirty thousand.
Maya’s shoes had cost eighty-four dollars.
That comparison became unbearable.
Nia closed the laptop and cried for the first time.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
She sat on the kitchen floor with her back against a cabinet and covered her face.
She cried because she had become a woman bargaining with grocery prices inside a household earning well over two hundred thousand dollars a year.
She cried because Andre had made restraint feel like virtue while treating himself as exempt.
She cried because she had thanked him for “leading” their financial reset.
At some point, Maya called from Danielle’s house.
“Mom?”
Nia wiped her face instantly.
“Hey, baby.”
“When are you coming?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Aunt Danielle said you and Andre are having grown-up problems.”
Nia closed her eyes.
“That’s true.”
“Is Andre mad at me?”
The question stunned her.
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Are you mad at Malik?”
“No.”
“Okay.”
Nia swallowed.
“Why would you think that?”
“Because grown-ups get mad and kids think it’s them.”
Nia’s heart cracked.
“Listen to me. None of this is because of you or Malik.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
After the call, Nia texted Keisha.
Please tell Malik the same thing.
Keisha replied immediately.
Already did.
The women were protecting the children from a conflict Andre had repeatedly used the children to justify.
That irony was not lost on either of them.
Saturday morning, Andre arrived.
“I want to take some documents.”
“Which documents?”
“Business records.”
“They’re yours.”
He walked toward the office.
Nia followed at a distance.
He opened a drawer.
Stopped.
“What?”
“The folder was here.”
“What folder?”
“Blue.”
Nia frowned.
“I haven’t touched a blue folder.”
Andre searched rapidly.
Desk.
Cabinet.
Closet shelf.
“Nia, where is it?”
“I just told you.”
“You’ve been going through everything.”
“Digital records. Joint accounts. Papers you left in plain view.”
Andre looked genuinely panicked.
“What was in it?”
“Nothing.”
Nia stared.
“Then why are you sweating?”
He stopped.
The doorbell rang.
Both froze.
Nia walked to the entrance.
Denise stood outside holding a blue folder.
Andre appeared behind Nia.
His face went pale.
“Mom.”
Denise stepped inside.
“I took it.”
Andre’s voice rose.
“Why?”
“Because I knew you would destroy it.”
Nia looked between them.
“What’s in there?”
Denise held the folder against her chest.
“Letters.”
Andre whispered, “Mom, don’t.”
Denise’s eyes filled.
“Your father’s letters.”
Nia frowned.
Andre looked furious.
“What does his father have to do with this?”
Denise met Nia’s eyes.
“More than I ever wanted.”
She opened the folder.
Inside were old bank statements, handwritten notes, and court papers from Andre’s childhood.
Denise pulled out one letter.
It was from Andre’s father.
A sentence had been underlined.
A man is a fool if his wife can stop him from using money he earned.
Nia looked at Andre.
He stared at the floor.
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