Chapter 6: The Secret About My First Wife
I read Denise's message at least twenty times.
There are things about her death that you never understood.
For several minutes, I couldn't move.
Angela had been gone for five years.
Five years of birthdays without her. Five Christmas mornings when Malik had searched the family photographs before opening his presents. Five years of trying to explain to a little boy why his mother wasn't coming home.
And now Denise was using her name as a weapon.
I called her immediately.
She answered on the second ring.
"Finally," she said.
"What do you mean about Angela?""
"I think we should talk in person.""
"Tell me now.""
"Marcus, this isn't something I want to discuss over the phone.""
"Then come to my mother's house.""
"No.""
"Then I'll come home.""
She paused.
"Alone.""
I looked toward Malik.
He was watching me from the kitchen table.
"Why?""
"Because this conversation concerns our marriage.""
I lowered my voice.
"Angela was Malik's mother. Anything involving her concerns him too.""
Denise sighed.
"That's exactly the problem. You always put him in the middle.""
I ended the call.
My mother approached.
"What did she say?""
I showed her the message.
Evelyn's expression changed immediately.
"That woman needs to stop using Angela's name.""
I looked at her.
"Mom, do you know something?""
She hesitated.
"Not enough to accuse anyone. But I never liked how quickly Denise became interested in Angela's belongings.""
"What belongings?""
"Her jewelry. Her old photographs. The documents you kept in the office.""
I frowned.
"Denise helped me organize those things.""
"Exactly.""
My mother sat down.
"Marcus, I remember when she asked me whether Angela had life insurance. I thought it was an innocent question because you two were newly married.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why would she ask you that?""
"She said she was trying to understand your financial responsibilities.""
I looked toward the living room.
Malik had turned off the television.
He was listening.
I didn't want him to hear another frightening conversation about his mother.
"Mom, can you stay with him?""
"Of course.""
I kissed Malik's forehead.
"I'm going to handle something. I'll call you later.""
He caught my hand.
"Dad?""
"Yes?""
"Is Denise saying something bad about Mom?""
I swallowed.
"I don't know yet.""
He looked down.
"Please don't let her say Mom did something wrong.""
I crouched beside him.
"Your mother loved you. Nothing anyone says will change that.""
He nodded.
But I could see the fear in his eyes.
I drove home.
Denise was waiting in the living room.
She had changed into a black dress and arranged two cups of coffee on the table.
It looked like she was preparing for a business meeting.
"Sit down," she said.
I remained standing.
"What do you know about Angela?""
Denise crossed her legs.
"I know she wasn't completely honest with you.""
"About what?""
"Her finances.""
I stared at her.
"Angela died five years ago. Why are we discussing her finances?""
"Because you never understood what happened before she died.""
I took a breath.
"Get to the point.""
Denise picked up her coffee.
"Angela had a life insurance policy.""
"I know.""
"Do you know who the beneficiary was?""
"Me.""
She shook her head.
"Not originally.""
I frowned.
"What are you talking about?""
"She changed it shortly before she died.""
I felt my heart pounding.
"Who did she name?""
Denise looked directly at me.
"Malik.""
I didn't understand.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
"Because I handled the paperwork.""
"Apparently, you didn't handle all of it.""
She reached for a folder on the coffee table.
Inside were photocopies of several documents.
One showed Angela's name.
Another showed a policy number.
The third was a beneficiary designation.
I recognized the signature.
It looked like Angela's.
But something was wrong.
The document was dated three weeks before her death.
"Where did you get this?""
Denise leaned back.
"From the paperwork you kept in your office.""
I stared at her.
"Why were you looking through Angela's insurance documents?""
"Because I was trying to understand our finances.""
I looked at the beneficiary section again.
Malik Johnson.
The policy had been worth $250,000.
I remembered the original payout.
The insurance company had paid me $250,000 after Angela died.
I had used part of it to pay medical bills, settle outstanding debts, and establish a college fund for Malik.
The remaining amount had gone into our household savings.
"Why are you showing me this?"" I asked.
Denise shrugged.
"Because you accused me of taking money from your household account.""
"You transferred more than thirty thousand dollars.""
"That money was mine too.""
"Not if you took it without discussing it.""
She leaned forward.
"Angela left Malik a fortune, Marcus. I have spent three years helping raise him. I think I deserve some consideration.""
I stared at her.
"You're saying you deserve money from my dead wife's insurance policy?""
"I'm saying I have sacrificed plenty.""
I shook my head.
"That money was intended to protect Malik.""
"And he's sixteen. He doesn't need a quarter of a million dollars sitting around.""
I felt my jaw tighten.
"That's not your decision.""
Denise suddenly stood.
"Then maybe you should look at the account.""
She walked toward the office.
I followed.
She opened a drawer and removed another folder.
Inside were bank statements.
She pointed to a series of transfers.
"See? I moved money into a separate account.""
I examined the statements.
The account number was unfamiliar.
The first transfer had happened shortly after our wedding.
The last had happened three days earlier.
I looked up.
"Who owns this account?""
Denise hesitated.
"Me.""
"Just you?""
She didn't answer.
I turned back to the statement.
There was a second name listed on one of the transfer confirmations.
A name I recognized.
Jordan.
I looked at her.
"Why is your son connected to this account?""
Denise snatched the paper.
"He's not.""
"His name is right here.""
"That's an administrative mistake.""
I took out my phone and photographed the statement.
She reached for it.
"Stop!""
I stepped away.
"Don't touch me.""
Her expression changed.
"Marcus, you're making a terrible mistake.""
"Maybe. But I'm going to find out where the money went.""
She folded her arms.
"You can't prove anything.""
"Then you shouldn't be worried.""
I left the office.
As I reached the staircase, Denise spoke again.
"There's something else about Angela.""
I stopped.
"What?""
She looked almost satisfied.
"Angela wasn't planning to leave you all that money.""
I turned around.
"What does that mean?""
Denise smiled faintly.
"She was planning to change the beneficiary again.""
My heart began pounding.
"How do you know?""
"Because I found a letter.""
"Where?""
"Among her personal belongings.""
"What letter?""
Denise walked closer.
"She wrote that she wanted the money protected from you.""
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I shook my head.
"You're lying.""
"Am I?""
I stared at her.
Angela had trusted me with everything.
She had chosen me to raise our son.
She had held my hand in the hospital and made me promise that Malik would never feel alone.
I knew she would never have wanted her son to suffer.
And I knew she would never have wanted someone using her memory to manipulate him.
I walked out without another word.
That night, I contacted the insurance company.
I requested a complete copy of the original policy, all beneficiary changes, and every document associated with the claim.
The representative told me it would take several business days.
Then I called my attorney.
I explained the transfers, the treatment of Malik, and Denise's claims about Angela.
He listened without interrupting.
Finally, he said, "Marcus, don't confront her about the documents again until we verify them.""
"Why?""
"Because if she is misrepresenting financial records, we need to establish exactly what happened.""
I looked at the clock.
It was almost midnight.
Then my phone buzzed.
An email had arrived from my mother.
She had attached a photograph of an envelope.
It was old, slightly yellowed, and addressed in Angela's handwriting.
The envelope had been found inside a box of family photographs.
On the front, Angela had written:
For Marcus. Only if someone ever tries to make Malik feel unwanted.
I opened the attached photograph.
My hands started shaking.
May you like
Because Angela had written another line underneath.
I know what Denise is capable of.
