Chapter 9 - The Logo
Northline’s logo appeared on page eleven.
Marcus stared at the PDF on Andre’s laptop.
STRATEGIC DEVELOPMENT PARTNERS
Beneath the heading were four logos.
Three belonged to legitimate companies.
The fourth belonged to Northline.
No authorization.
No agreement.
No partnership.
Yet there it was.
Andre Lewis paced across the conference room.
“We’ve been working six months for that lending relationship.”
Marcus said nothing.
Andre pointed at the screen.
“And now their compliance department wants to know why we’re appearing in materials from a company with investor complaints.”
“We tell them the truth.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“They paused the meeting.”
Marcus leaned back.
“Paused isn’t canceled.”
“It isn’t good.”
Tiana sat near the wall feeling physically ill.
Andre finally looked at her.
Marcus had told him enough to explain why she was present.
Not everything.
But enough.
“Tiana,” Andre said, “how well do you know this Darius?”
“Not well.”
“You invested with him.”
“Yes.”
“Through Chanel.”
“Yes.”
“Did Darius ever ask for information about Northline?”
“Not directly.”
“What about indirectly?”
She thought.
“There was a dinner.”
Marcus looked at her.
“What dinner?”
“February.”
“Where?”
“Bishop House.”
The restaurant was expensive enough that Marcus immediately remembered.
“You told me it was girls’ night.”
“It started that way.”
Andre stopped pacing.
“And then?”
“Chanel and Darius came. Darius asked what you were building.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That you were working on the Jefferson corridor.”
Marcus’s voice sharpened.
“Did you show him anything?”
“No.”
Tiana stopped.
Then remembered.
Marcus noticed.
“What?”
“A photo.”
“What photo?”
“You sent me a picture from the closing.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
The first Jefferson property closing had taken place in January.
A conference table.
Marcus.
Andre.
Their attorney.
A document folder.
A Northline sign behind them.
Tiana had proudly shown Chanel.
Then Darius.
“Did you send him the picture?”
“No. I showed him my phone.”
“Could he have photographed it?”
“I don’t know.”
Andre cursed under his breath.
Marcus remained controlled.
“What else did he ask?”
“Whether Northline used private investors.”
Andre laughed bitterly.
“There it is.”
Tiana continued.
“I told him I didn’t know.”
“Did he ask you to find out?”
“Yes.”
Marcus looked at her.
“And?”
“I said no.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It felt harmless.”
Andre turned toward the window.
Marcus asked, “Anything else?”
Tiana closed her eyes, trying to reconstruct the evening.
Darius’s expensive watch.
Chanel talking about Miami.
Champagne.
Questions disguised as compliments.
Then she remembered.
“He asked whether you owned the house.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes.”
“Did he ask the address?”
“No.”
“He knew it already,” Andre said.
Marcus looked at him.
Andre pointed at Tiana’s phone.
“Birthday posts. Tagged locations. Public property records. Not difficult.”
Tiana felt suddenly exposed.
Not because of the house.
Because of how casually she had broadcast pieces of their life.
Marcus asked, “What about the SUV?”
“What?”
“Did Chanel know I was buying it?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“I didn’t know.”
Andre closed the laptop.
“We need counsel.”
“I called Karen,” Marcus said.
“When?”
“On the way here.”
Andre nodded.
Tiana recognized the name.
Karen Bell, Northline’s attorney.
Marcus looked at Tiana.
“She wants every message you have with Chanel and Darius.”
“I’ll send them.”
“Everything.”
“Yes.”
“Even personal messages about me.”
Tiana hesitated.
Marcus noticed.
“If they’re relevant—”
“They might be.”
She looked ashamed.
“What did you send?”
“Complaints.”
“We covered that.”
“And screenshots.”
Marcus stared at her.
“Of what?”
“Your messages.”
The room became silent.
“Which messages?”
“Mostly arguments.”
Andre quietly picked up his laptop.
“I’m going to give you two a minute.”
He left.
Marcus waited until the door closed.
“You sent private messages between us to Chanel?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted advice.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Years?”
“Sometimes.”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Tiana, did you ever send anything about my business?”
“No.”
“Bank information?”
“No.”
“Contracts?”
“No.”
“Calendars?”
She stopped.
Marcus saw it.
“What calendar?”
“You sent me your schedule for the Jefferson closings because I complained you were never free.”
His face changed.
“Did you screenshot that?”
“I think so.”
“Did you send it?”
“I might have.”
Marcus leaned against the table.
For the first time since the driveway, he looked genuinely shaken.
Not angry.
Violated.
Tiana’s voice broke.
“I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t think.”
“I trusted her.”
“You trusted her with information that wasn’t yours to give.”
The distinction cut deep.
Marcus turned away.
Tiana wiped her eyes.
“I will fix this.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s the problem.”
He looked back at her.
“You keep making promises before you know whether you can keep them.”
Tiana went quiet.
Marcus opened the conference-room door.
“Send Karen everything.”
He walked out.
Tiana remained alone.
Her phone vibrated.
A text from Chanel.
Darius says Marcus needs to stop threatening lawyers or things can get ugly.
Tiana stared.
Then another message arrived.
He has more information about Northline than Marcus thinks.
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