Chapter 4 - The Plans They Stole
Nia had created the Westhaven drawings at her dining-room table.
She remembered every line.
Original tile retained.
Interior wall removed.
Two offices upstairs.
A small consultation library near the front windows.
Marcus had brought her tea while she worked.
Denise had stopped by one evening and admired the sketches.
“You have vision,” she had told Nia.
Now the same drawings sat inside a financing package Nia had never approved.
“Send me everything,” Nia told Marcus.
“We should talk first.”
“No.”
“Nia, some of it won’t make sense without context.”
“Documents love context. Send them.”
He sighed.
“I’ll email them.”
“Today.”
“Yes.”
“And don’t remove, edit or delete anything.”
Marcus went quiet.
Nia heard herself speaking like a stranger.
A careful stranger.
Someone whose pain had begun turning into procedure.
She ended the call.
Imani pushed the cold coffee away.
“You’re calling a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
Imani nodded.
“Good.”
“I hate that word.”
“What word?”
“Lawyer.”
“Why?”
“Because yesterday I had a husband.”
Imani’s expression softened.
“You still have a husband.”
Nia looked at her.
“Exactly.”
By noon, Imani had connected her with Tessa Brooks, a family-law attorney whose office occupied the twelfth floor of a glass building in Midtown Atlanta.
Tessa was forty-two, sharply dressed and calm in a way Nia immediately trusted.
She listened without interruption.
When Nia finished, Tessa folded her hands.
“I’m going to separate the emotional issues from the legal ones.”
“Please.”
“First, Georgia allows no-fault divorce based on the marriage being irretrievably broken. You don’t need to prove adultery to obtain the divorce.”
Nia nodded.
“Second, marital property is generally subject to equitable division. That does not automatically mean fifty-fifty, and the specific facts matter.”
“What about the money he transferred?”
“We need records. Joint account ownership means we shouldn’t assume the transfer itself was criminal. But if marital funds were moved into an entity created to hide assets or exclude you, that can become highly relevant in divorce proceedings.”
Nia looked down.
“So I’m not crazy.”
Tessa’s voice remained neutral.
“My job isn’t to certify feelings. My job is to document facts. And your facts deserve documentation.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, Nia almost smiled.
Tessa continued.
“Do not drain joint accounts. Do not destroy property. Do not access accounts you are not legally authorized to access. Download statements for accounts you legitimately share. Save emails and texts sent to you. Make copies.”
“And the business plans?”
“Your company owns them?”
“Yes.”
“Were they copyrighted?”
“Not formally registered.”
“That doesn’t mean they have no protection. We’ll have to examine how they were used and what agreements exist.”
Nia exhaled.
“This is becoming bigger than the affair.”
“It often does.”
That sentence stayed with Nia.
At 2:17 p.m., Marcus’s email arrived.
Subject: DOCUMENTS.
Twenty-three attachments.
Nia forwarded them to Tessa before opening anything.
Then she began.
Purchase agreement.
Closing statement.
Loan application.
Renovation budget.
A project deck.
Her stomach tightened when she saw the cover.
WESTHAVEN REVITALIZATION PROJECT
Below the title:
Design Concept by Nia Carter Design Studio
She had never authorized the deck.
Page six contained her floor plan.
Page eight contained a rendering she had made for Marcus privately.
Page eleven contained a paragraph describing her firm as “anticipated design lead.”
Not legally contracted.
But deliberately presented as part of the project.
Her reputation had helped sell the deal.
Then she reached the ownership chart.
Carter Ridge Holdings LLC:
Marcus Carter — 60%.
Denise Carter — 40%.
Lauren Bennett — broker and project consultant.
Nia stared at Lauren’s name.
The affair had not existed beside the financial betrayal.
It had been woven through it.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Nia almost ignored it.
Something made her answer.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Nia?”
Nia froze.
She knew the voice.
Lauren Bennett.
“What do you want?”
Lauren inhaled shakily.
“I know I’m probably the last person you want calling.”
“That is the first accurate thing anybody connected to this mess has said.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nia nearly hung up.
Then Lauren said, “Marcus told me you knew about Carter Ridge.”
Nia’s hand tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“He said you wanted to stay out of the ownership structure because you were protecting your design company.”
“That is a lie.”
Lauren went silent.
Nia stood.
“What else did he tell you?”
“He said you two were separated emotionally.”
Nia laughed without humor.
“We went to Cabo in January.”
Lauren did not answer.
“He bought me earrings there.”
“Oh God.”
“No. We’re not bringing God into this conversation. His mother already tried that.”
Lauren’s voice broke.
“I didn’t know everything.”
“You knew he was married.”
“Yes.”
“Then you knew enough.”
“I did.”
The admission surprised Nia.
No defense.
No performance.
Just guilt.
Nia paced toward the window.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because Marcus told me last night that if anybody asks, I need to say the affair started after the Westhaven closing.”
Nia stopped walking.
“When did it actually start?”
“Before.”
“How long before?”
Lauren whispered, “Six weeks.”
Nia closed her eyes.
The timeline shifted again.
Lauren continued.
“And there’s something else.”
Nia almost laughed.
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Denise didn’t find out four months ago.”
Nia’s grip tightened.
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Lauren’s next words came quietly.
“She knew almost from the beginning.”
