Chapter 7 - The Missing Watch
Malik did not return to Tanya's house that night.
But he did return the next afternoon.
With Renee.
And with his phone recording openly in his hand.
Darrell stood inside the doorway.
“You recording me?”
“Yes.”
“Turn that off.”
“No.”
“This is my home.”
Renee looked past him.
“Interesting choice of words.”
Darrell ignored her.
Malik held up his phone.
“I'm here for the rest of my belongings.”
“Your mother isn't home.”
“I arranged it with her.”
“She should've told me.”
“She did.”
Darrell's face tightened.
Malik showed him the text.
You can get anything left in your room. Renee can come.
Darrell stepped aside reluctantly.
Malik entered.
The house felt different.
Nothing had changed physically.
That made it worse.
Family photographs still lined the hallway.
One showed Malik at eleven holding a soccer trophy beside Tanya.
Another showed Andre smiling behind them.
Darrell had always complained there were too many pictures of Tanya's “old life.”
Malik noticed something now.
The largest photograph of Andre had disappeared.
He stopped.
“Where's my dad's picture?”
Darrell continued walking.
“Tanya moved some things.”
“Where?”
“Ask her.”
Malik entered his bedroom.
The drawers stood partially open.
His closet was nearly empty.
His desk had been cleared.
He walked to the top drawer.
Nothing.
“The watch,” he said.
Darrell leaned against the doorframe.
“What watch?”
“My father's Timex.”
“Never saw it.”
“It was right here.”
“Then maybe you packed it.”
“You packed me.”
Darrell smiled slightly.
“You keep saying that like I committed a felony.”
Malik's jaw tightened.
Renee stepped between the two men without touching either.
“We're not doing this.”
Darrell laughed.
“He always needs a woman protecting him.”
Malik moved before thinking.
Not toward Darrell.
Away.
He took one slow breath.
Then another.
Darrell's smile faded.
Malik said, “You really need me angry, don't you?”
“What?”
“If I yell, I'm immature.”
“You are immature.”
“If I threaten you, I'm dangerous.”
Darrell folded his arms.
“You said it.”
“If I lose control, then packing my bags becomes justified.”
Darrell stared at him.
Malik nodded.
“I'm not giving you that.”
Renee's expression softened with pride.
They searched the room.
No watch.
No photograph.
But inside Malik's desk drawer they found something else.
A yellow carbon-copy receipt from a local jewelry and pawn shop.
Westfield Gold & Loan.
Date: three weeks earlier.
Item description:
Vintage Timex wristwatch — stainless steel.
Loan value: $120.
Customer:
Darrell Cole.
Malik read it twice.
Darrell's face changed.
Renee turned slowly.
“You said you never saw it.”
Darrell unfolded his arms.
“That could be any watch.”
“It has my dad's initials on the description.”
Small handwritten notation:
A.T. engraved back.
Malik looked up.
“You pawned my father's watch for a hundred and twenty dollars?”
“I didn't know it was yours.”
“It was in my desk.”
“I thought Tanya said things in that room were being cleared.”
Renee's voice went cold.
“You entered the kid's bedroom, took a dead man's watch from a drawer, pawned it, and somehow that became a misunderstanding?”
Darrell stepped forward.
“Don't call him a kid when it helps and a grown man when you want him paying bills.”
Renee's eyes narrowed.
“I don't.”
Darrell looked at Malik.
“You want independence? Welcome to adulthood. Sometimes property gets mixed up.”
Malik stared at him.
Something inside him became unexpectedly calm.
“Give me the money.”
Darrell frowned.
“What?”
“The pawn ticket says one-twenty.”
“I'm not giving you money.”
“Then I'll go retrieve the watch and show them this receipt.”
“So?”
“And tell them it was pawned without permission.”
Darrell's jaw clenched.
“You trying to accuse me of theft?”
Malik held up the receipt.
“You already wrote the evidence.”
For the first time since Malik had known him, Darrell looked uncertain.
He reached into his wallet.
Pulled out cash.
Counted six twenties.
Malik did not take them.
“Put it on the desk.”
Darrell tossed the money down.
Malik photographed it.
Darrell laughed bitterly.
“You think you're smart now?”
“No.”
Malik picked up the pawn ticket.
“I think I'm finally paying attention.”
As Malik packed the last box, Renee searched the hallway cabinet for Andre's missing photograph.
She found it facedown behind spare linens.
Under it was a thick white envelope.
No name.
Inside were photocopies of mortgage documents.
A proposed quitclaim deed.
And a preliminary loan application.
Tanya Turner was listed as homeowner.
Darrell Cole was listed as proposed co-owner.
The loan request was for $115,000.
Renee turned the page.
Under “planned use of proceeds,” someone had typed:
Debt consolidation, residential improvements, joint business investment.
Malik looked at Darrell.
“What's the joint business?”
Darrell's expression went still.
Malik read the next page.
The proposed company name was:
Cole-Turner Property Solutions LLC.
Tanya had never mentioned a company.
But beneath the company name was an ownership split.
Darrell Cole — 70%.
Tanya Turner — 30%.
And next to Tanya's name was a signature.
Renee stared.
May you like
![92 The Girl They Called Broke Was a Billionaire’s Daughter—But Her Father’s Arrival Exposed a Secret Powerful People Had Buried for Years]](https://cdn.treeiq.biz/site_590/2026/11/clone-0-0915d882-53d7-4d17-b43a-a010ca1a1068.webp)
“That doesn't look like your mother's signature.”
Malik knew immediately she was right.
