Chapter 8: The Money He Said Was Ours
My attorney called me at nine the following morning.
She had reviewed the documents Marcus provided and wanted me to bring in the records from our household savings account. She also asked me to prepare a timeline of the transfers I recognized, the dates Jermaine had discussed his business with me, and any messages in which he had described the money as a loan or reimbursement.
I spent the next four hours gathering records.
Some of the transactions were easy to identify. Our mortgage payments, insurance premiums, utility bills, and regular savings deposits had clear descriptions.
Others were not so simple.
There were transfers to accounts with abbreviated names. There were payments labeled as reimbursements without supporting receipts. There were withdrawals that I had assumed were connected to household repairs because Jermaine had told me he was handling them.
One transfer stood out.
It had occurred twenty-two months earlier.
The same month the fifth phone line became active.
I stared at the date.
The amount was larger than the others, and the destination account ended in the same four digits shown in Marcus's paperwork.
I opened the account history again, then checked the old emails.
I found a message from Jermaine sent the evening before the transfer.
Roof guy needs a deposit. I'll move the money around and take care of it. Don't worry about it.
I remembered that message.
I remembered sitting at work, reading it between appointments, and replying that I trusted him to handle it.
I had believed I was authorizing a routine household expense.
I had not been told that the money would be transferred into an account associated with his business.
I printed the email.
Then I called the attorney.
She asked me to send her the message and the relevant statement. She explained that the wording might help establish what I understood at the time, but it would need to be considered alongside the actual account records.
I agreed.
By noon, I had a folder containing the transfer details, the original email, and the statements I could access.
I sat at the kitchen table and tried to remember the conversation about the roof.
Jermaine had told me that the contractor wanted a deposit. He had said he would handle the payment because he knew the man. I had asked whether we could afford it, and he had reassured me that the money would be replaced when his next contract paid.
I had not questioned him.
Why would I?
We had been married fourteen years. We shared a home, bills, responsibilities, and plans. I had believed that when he told me something about our finances, he was giving me information I needed to make decisions.
Now I was discovering that he might have been using my trust as a substitute for my consent.
My phone rang.
Jermaine.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“What?””
“Dee, we need to talk.””
“About what?””
“The business.””
“I have an appointment with my attorney.””
He went silent.
“You hired a lawyer?””
“Yes.””
“Dee, why would you do that before talking to me?””
I looked at the printed email.
“I did talk to you. You told me you didn't know about the fifth phone. Then you admitted you did. You told me you couldn't explain Denise.
Then you said you needed to speak to her first. I've asked you questions, Jermaine. You've answered the ones you felt comfortable answering.””
“I know I've made mistakes.””
“Then start telling the truth.””
He exhaled.
“I need you to understand that the business was under pressure. I had contracts delayed, vendors demanding payment, and people threatening to walk away.””
“Did you transfer our savings into your business account?””
“I was going to put it back.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“Yes.””
I closed my eyes.
“How much?””
“I don't know the exact total.””
“You keep saying that.””
“Because I haven't had time to go through everything.””
“You've had twenty-two months.””
He said nothing.
“Did you tell me that you were moving the money into your business account?””
“I told you I needed to move money around.””
“You told me you were paying a roofing contractor.””
“I thought I could replace it before you noticed.””
The sentence was so honest that I almost missed its cruelty.
Before you noticed.
I pressed my palm against the table.
“So you knew I didn't understand what you were doing.””
“I wasn't trying to steal from you.””
“Then what were you trying to do?””
“Keep the business alive.””
“At my expense?””
“At our expense,” he corrected quickly.
“It was for our future.””
I stared at the wall.
That was how he had always explained his choices. He made them sound like sacrifices for the family. He had taken extra work for our future.
He had stayed late for our future. He had needed privacy for our future.
And somehow, every time he used those words, I was expected to stop asking questions.
“Our future,” I repeated.
“Yes.””
“Did our future include Tameka?””
He made a small, wounded sound.
“Dee, please don't bring her into this.””
“You brought her into this six years ago.””
“I know.””
“Did you use our money to support her apartment?””
“No.””
“Did you pay any of her bills?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation answered more than his words had.
“Jermaine?””
“I helped her sometimes.””
“With what money?””
“Mine.””
“Your money came from your business, and your business used our savings.””
“That's not fair.””
I laughed, stunned by the audacity.
“Fair?””
“I didn't mean it that way.””
“You never mean it that way. You do something, I discover it, and suddenly we're discussing how I misunderstood you.””
He began speaking faster.
“I was trying to manage everything. The business, the marriage, the house. I made bad decisions, but I never wanted to lose you.””
I looked at the photograph of our wedding that I had hidden in the drawer.
“You were willing to let me live in a marriage I didn't know I was in.””
“I never stopped loving you.””
“That's not the same as respecting me.””
He went quiet.
I could hear him breathing.
Then he said, “I need you to help me fix this.””
I felt something inside me settle.
For fourteen years, I had been his partner in every difficulty. If he had a problem, I helped him solve it. If he made a mistake, I helped him correct it. If he disappointed someone, I helped him explain himself.
He was asking me to do it again.
But this time, helping him could mean helping him control the story before I understood what had happened.
“No.””
“Dee—”
“I will cooperate with a proper review of the accounts. I will provide the records I have. I will answer questions honestly. But I will not sign anything saying I approved transactions I didn't understand.””
He inhaled sharply.
“Who told you to say that?””
“Nobody. It's the truth.””
“Marcus has been filling your head with things.””
“Marcus showed me records. You can explain them through the proper process.””
“He doesn't know everything.””
“Then provide the information he doesn't have.””
“You're making this worse.””
“No, Jermaine. I'm refusing to make it easier for you to hide.””
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking, but I did not regret what I had said.
That afternoon, I met my attorney and gave her the records. She reviewed the email and statements, then explained that we would need to establish the destination of the money, the ownership of the relevant accounts, and whether the transactions had been authorized.
She also asked whether I had signed any business documents.
I said I didn't remember signing anything beyond ordinary household and banking paperwork.
“Don't guess,” she advised.
“We'll obtain copies where possible and determine exactly what you signed.””
I left with a list of documents to request.
When I got home, Beverly was waiting on the porch.
She had brought a casserole and a bag of groceries. She looked as though she had been crying.
“I called Jermaine,” she said.
I unlocked the door.
“What did he tell you?””
“That he made mistakes. That he was trying to keep the business going. That he loves you and wants to come home.””
I carried the groceries inside.
“Did he tell you about the money?””
“No.””
“Did he tell you about Tameka?””
“He said he would explain everything when you were ready to listen.””
I set the bag down harder than I intended.
“I have been listening for six years. I just didn't know what I was hearing.””
Beverly lowered her head.
“I know.””
I turned toward her.
“Mama, did you know he was married to Tameka?””
“No.””
“Did you know he had another phone?””
“No.””
“Did you know he had taken money from our savings?””
“No.””
She answered each question without hesitation.
I believed her.
That did not make the situation easier. It simply meant there was one person in Jermaine's family who might not have been part of the deception.
Beverly sat at the kitchen table.
“He called me this morning,” she said.
“He was crying.””
I looked at her.
“What did he say?””
“He said he's afraid he's going to lose everything.””
I felt the old instinct rise in me, the instinct to comfort a person who was suffering.
Then I remembered the anonymous messages, the second wedding, the fifth phone, and the email about the roof deposit.
“What did you tell him?””
“I told him he should have thought about that before he lied to you.””
I stared at her.
Beverly's eyes filled.
“I love my son, Deandra. But I won't ask you to protect him from what he did.””
I sat beside her.
For a long time, we said nothing.
Then she took a folded paper from her purse.
“There's something I didn't tell you yesterday.””
My chest tightened.
“What?””
“Denise called me again last week.””
I straightened.
“What did she say?””
“She asked whether Jermaine had spoken to me about a set of papers. I told her I didn't know what she meant. She said she had reason to believe he was trying to get somebody to sign a statement about the business.””
I felt the room grow cold.
“Did she tell you who?””
“No. But she asked me whether you were safe.””
“Safe?””
Beverly nodded.
“I thought she meant emotionally. I told her you were staying with me and that you were safe. She said she was glad, then she hung up.””
I looked at the paper in her hand.
It was a telephone number and a name.
Denise Walker.
Beverly had written it down after the call.
“She said she would speak to you directly if you wanted,” Beverly explained.
“I didn't know whether I should give you the number.””
I took the paper.
“You should have.””
“I know.””
I called Denise that evening, but the number went to voicemail.
I left a brief message identifying myself and explaining that Marcus had given me her name. I asked her to contact my attorney if she had relevant records or information.
I did not ask her to explain everything over the phone.
I had learned that important truths deserved more than a rushed conversation and a promise to keep secrets.
An hour later, my phone rang.
It was Denise.
“Ms. Deandra?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Denise Walker. I've been trying to decide whether I should contact you.””
“Why?””
“Because Jermaine told me you had already approved the business transactions. He said you knew about the account and had agreed to the transfers.””
“I did not.””
“I know that now.””
My throat tightened.
“How?””
“Because I saw the email he sent you about the roofing deposit. He showed it to me months ago, claiming it proved you knew he was moving money for the business. But I recently learned that the transfer went to an account that wasn't the roofing contractor's.””
I closed my eyes.
“Do you have proof?””
“I have copies of the records I maintained. I also have the invoice from the roofing contractor. It shows that the deposit was never paid by Jermaine's business.””
I gripped the phone.
“Then where did the money go?””
“I can't tell you that with certainty. I can show you the transfer records I have.””
“Why didn't you tell me sooner?””
“Because I was told you were involved, and I didn't want to accuse an innocent person of something I couldn't prove. Then I learned Jermaine had been asking people to sign statements confirming your approval.””
I felt sick.
“He asked Marcus to sign one.””
“Yes. And someone else.””
“Who?””
Denise hesitated.
“I don't want to give you a name until I've checked my records. I don't want to make another mistake.””
For the first time, I appreciated the caution.
“All right,” I said.
“My attorney can contact you.””
“Thank you.””
Before she hung up, Denise said one more thing.
“There's something you should understand about the fifth phone. It wasn't created because of Tameka. The line was already being used for business before I knew about their marriage.””
I sat motionless.
“What does that mean?””
“It means the phone and the affair may overlap, but they didn't necessarily begin for the same reason.””
I thought about the date the line had been activated.
Twenty-two months ago.
Six years after the second wedding.
The marriage had been a secret for years before the phone existed.
The phone concealed something else.
And Jermaine had been trying to make me believe that the business problems, the second marriage, and the financial records were all one tangled mistake.
Perhaps they were connected.
But they were not the same thing.
After the call, I wrote down Denise's statement and the time she had contacted me. I sent the details to my attorney and waited for further instructions.
Then I opened my yellow legal pad.
Under the heading *What I know*, I added three lines.
Jermaine admitted moving money from our savings.
The roofing deposit was not paid as he claimed.
He tried to obtain a statement saying I had authorized transactions I did not understand.
I put the pen down.
For the first time, I was no longer simply trying to discover whether my husband had lied.
I was trying to determine what he had done with the life we had built together.
May you like
And the more I learned, the more certain I became that the truth would not arrive as one dramatic confession.
It would arrive in records, dates, signatures, and the words of people who had waited too long to speak.
