Chapter 6 - The Office No Wife Knew About
Nia did not tell Andre she was going to Riverstone.
At 5:30 p.m., she parked across from a small professional complex beside a dental office and insurance agency.
Suite 214 displayed no company name.
Only a brass number.
Nia walked upstairs.
The door was locked.
Through the narrow glass panel, she saw a desk, filing cabinets, two chairs, and a whiteboard.
Nothing suggested a thriving business.
Then she noticed photographs pinned to a corkboard.
Property listings.
A duplex.
Two small houses.
A vacant commercial lot.
And the exact duplex Andre planned to buy through AKM Holdings.
Nia lifted her phone and photographed what she could see without entering.
A voice behind her said, “Can I help you?”
She turned.
A middle-aged man carrying a briefcase stood in the hallway.
“I’m looking for Wells Family Ventures.”
“Andre’s company?”
Nia forced herself to remain calm.
“You know him?”
“Sure. I’m Mark Ellison. I lease the suite next door.”
“How long has Andre been here?”
“Year and a half, maybe.”
Nia felt cold.
“Does he come often?”
“Couple times a week. Usually evenings.”
For eighteen months, Andre had occasionally told her he was working late.
Nia swallowed.
“Anyone else?”
Mark shrugged.
“His mother sometimes. Another woman once or twice.”
Nia’s chest tightened.
“Can you describe her?”
“Braids. Maybe early thirties.”
Keisha.
“Thank you.”
Mark looked uncertain.
“You’re…?”
“His wife.”
Mark’s face changed immediately.
“Oh.”
That reaction told Nia Andre had never mentioned her.
She walked back to her car and sat without starting it.
Her phone rang.
Keisha.
“I found something,” Keisha said.
“So did I.”
They agreed to meet the next morning at a coffee shop.
When Nia arrived home, Andre was cooking.
The domestic normalcy felt grotesque.
“I made salmon.”
“I ate.”
“You didn’t.”
Nia stopped.
“How would you know?”
Andre realized his mistake.
“You always text when you eat out.”
“I used to.”
He turned off the burner.
“Where were you?”
“Work.”
It was the first direct lie Nia had told him in years.
She disliked how easy it felt.
Andre watched her carefully.
“I talked to my mother.”
“I know.”
“She said you threatened legal action.”
“I said I’m documenting the money.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Andre placed the spatula down.
“She shouldn’t have been dragged into this.”
“You dragged her into it when you used her business account.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Nia.”
“And Wells Family Ventures.”
Andre stopped moving.
The kitchen became silent.
Nia knew she had finally reached something he had not expected her to find.
“What is it?”
“A real estate investment entity.”
“Funded with what?”
“My money.”
“Rent paid from our joint checking.”
“That was an oversight.”
“For nine months?”
He looked away.
Nia almost laughed.
“How many properties?”
“None.”
“Then why do you have an office?”
“Planning.”
“For what?”
“My future.”
The words landed between them.
Nia looked at him.
“Our future?”
Andre hesitated.
Then corrected himself.
“Our future.”
Too late.
Nia walked upstairs.
Andre followed.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take one word and build a case.”
“I don’t need one word.”
She opened the bedroom closet and removed a suitcase.
Andre stared.
“You’re leaving?”
“No.”
She placed it on the bed and began removing some of his shirts.
“You are.”
His face hardened.
“You can’t throw me out of my own house.”
“You’re right.”
Nia stopped.
She knew he was legally correct.
“I’m asking you to stay somewhere else for a few nights.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then I’ll sleep in the guest room and lock my personal documents.”
Andre stared at her.
“You’ve already decided I’m guilty.”
“You admitted hiding money.”
“I admitted investing.”
“You told Keisha we were separating.”
“I was trying to manage her.”
Nia turned slowly.
“Manage her?”
“She gets emotional about Malik.”
“So you lied.”
“I said what I needed to say.”
Nia suddenly understood why arguing felt impossible.
Andre did not categorize lies according to truth.
He categorized them according to usefulness.
She stepped closer.
“What are you saying to me right now because you think you need to say it?”
Andre said nothing.
That night, he packed a bag and drove to Denise’s house.
Nia locked the bedroom door.
At 1:08 a.m., unable to sleep, she opened the financial folder she had downloaded.
One PDF had escaped her attention.
A credit application associated with Wells Family Ventures.
Andre had listed expected available capital:
$75,000.
Nia stared at the figure.
Their joint savings had never contained seventy-five thousand dollars.
Then she saw the attached asset description.
Equity available from primary residence.
Their house.
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Andre had not merely been hiding money.
He had been building a plan around the value of their home.
