Chapter 5: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I kept staring at the paper.
Not because I didn’t understand what I was seeing.
Because I understood it too well.
My name was there.
My signature was there.
But it wasn’t me.
The handwriting looked close enough to make my stomach turn.
The curve of the “S.””
The way the last name slanted slightly upward.
The small loop at the end.
Someone had studied me.
Someone had practiced me.
Someone had taken a part of my identity and copied it.
“This has to be a mistake.””
My voice sounded distant.
Devin didn’t answer immediately.
That scared me.
Because Devin was usually the person who filled silence.
He was the person who made jokes when things got uncomfortable.
But now he just sat there, staring at the document like he was afraid of what it meant.
“Say something,” I whispered.
He looked at me.
“Simone…”
“No. Don’t say my name like that.””
“Like what?””
“Like I’m already the person who got hurt.””
His expression softened.
“Because you are.””
I pushed the papers away.
“No.””
“Simone.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“This is too much.””
The words came out faster.
“First the account. Then the money. Now this?””
My hands moved toward my coffee cup, but I didn’t pick it up.
“I can’t just sit here and believe that my husband forged my signature.””
Devin stayed quiet.
And somehow that made me angrier.
“You’re supposed to say something.””
“What?””
“I don’t know.””
I looked at him.
“Tell me I’m wrong.””
His eyes lowered.
“I can’t.””
That hurt.
Not because he was cruel.
Because he sounded like he wished he could.
I grabbed the folder.
“I’m taking these.””
“Okay.””
“You’re not going to stop me?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because you need to see everything.””
I looked at him.
“What else is there?””
His silence answered before he did.
“More.””
A cold feeling moved through me.
“How much more?””
“I don’t know.””
“You don’t know?””
“I found the files, Simone. I didn’t understand all of them.””
I flipped through the pages again.
There were transfers.
Invoices.
Business documents.
Copies of identification.
And then something caught my eye.
A scanned copy of my driver’s license.
My stomach dropped.
“Why does he have this?””
Devin leaned closer.
“I don’t know.””
“My license?””
“Simone…”
“No.””
I looked at him.
“Don’t tell me to calm down.””
“I wasn’t going to.””
“Because I am calm.””
I wasn’t.
My entire body was shaking.
But anger was easier than fear.
Anger made me feel like I had control.
“Why would Malik need my license?””
Devin didn’t answer.
And that was when I realized something.
He had a theory.
“You know something.””
His eyes moved to mine.
“No.””
“You do.””
“Simone.””
“What?””
He looked away.
“Please don’t make me say things I can’t prove.””
I leaned forward.
“I’m already sitting here looking at a fake signature.””
My voice lowered.
“What else could possibly be worse?””
Devin closed his eyes for a moment.
Then he said:
“I think Malik may have been setting something up.””
“What?””
“A way to protect himself.””
“From what?””
“From you.””
I laughed.
A sharp, broken sound.
“Why would my husband need protection from me?””
“Because if the money disappeared, he needed someone else attached to it.””
I stared at him.
“You think he was going to blame me?””
“I think he wanted options.””
The word made me sick.
Options.
Like our marriage was a business decision.
Like I was a problem to solve.
I stood up.
“I need to go.””
Devin looked concerned.
“Where?””
“Home.””
“Simone—”
“I need to talk to him.””
“You can’t walk in there and accuse him.””
“Why not?””
“Because if he did this, he’ll know you know.””
I stopped.
The sentence made me turn around.
“And?””
“And people who are hiding things don’t always react calmly when they’re exposed.””
I stared at him.
“Are you saying I should be afraid of my husband?””
“No.””
His answer came immediately.
“I’m saying you should be careful.””
Those words followed me all the way home.
When I arrived, Malik was sitting in the living room.
The television was on.
Muted.
He looked up.
“You were with Devin.””
Not a question.
A statement.
I froze.
“How did you know?””
He smiled sadly.
“Because every time something happens, you go to him.””
There was something bitter in his voice.
“You’re wrong.””
“Am I?””
“Yes.””
“Then where were you?””
I didn’t answer.
Not because I couldn’t.
Because I knew anything I said would change the conversation.
And I needed answers first.
Malik stood.
“Did he show you something?””
My heart stopped.
There it was.
The proof.
He knew.
“What makes you think he did?””
His face tightened.
“Because I know Devin.””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“You know your version of Devin.””
“What’s that supposed to mean?””
“It means maybe you don’t know him as well as you think.””
A flash of anger crossed his face.
“Be careful.””
The words were quiet.
But they weren’t a warning.
They were a threat.
Not physical.
Something colder.
The kind of threat people make when they believe they still have control.
I noticed.
And so did he.
Because his expression changed.
“I didn’t mean it like that.””
I looked at him.
“Then how did you mean it?””
He didn’t answer.
“Did you forge my signature?””
The question changed everything.
His face went blank.
Completely blank.
That scared me more than anger.
“What?””
“You heard me.””
“Where did you get that idea?””
I watched him carefully.
Again.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
A question.
“Answer me.””
“Of course I didn’t.””
The words came quickly this time.
But something felt wrong.
“Then why is my signature on a business document I never signed?””
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I felt my heartbeat in my ears.
“Malik?””
He sat down slowly.
“Where did you get that?””
I almost laughed.
“You’re still asking that?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because if Devin showed you that, then you need to understand something.””
“What?””
His eyes lifted.
“He’s lying to you.””
I stared.
“About the signature?””
“About everything.””
“Then prove it.””
His expression hardened.
“I can.””
“How?””
He stood.
“Because I know why he’s doing this.””
“Why?””
Malik looked toward the window.
For a second, he looked genuinely hurt.
Then he said:
“Because Devin has been in love with you for years.””
The room went silent.
I felt like the floor moved beneath me.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“That’s not true.””
“Isn’t it?””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“You’re trying to change the subject.””
“Am I?””
His voice rose.
“Think about it, Simone.””
“I am.””
“Who was there when we fought?””
“Devin.””
“Who listened when you were upset?””
“Because you weren’t listening.””
“Who did you call at one in the morning?””
I went quiet.
Because that was the question I couldn’t answer.
Not without admitting something painful.
Malik stepped closer.
“I’m not saying I handled things right.””
For the first time, his voice cracked.
“I know I failed you.””
I looked at him.
“But don’t let him turn that into something else.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means Devin didn’t find those documents because he wanted to help you.””
I stared.
“Then why?””
His answer came softly.
“Because he wanted you to leave me.””
I wanted to reject it.
Immediately.
Because it was easier.
Because Devin had been the person who helped me when Malik didn’t.
But then I remembered something.
The late-night calls.
The way he always knew when I was upset.
The way Tasha looked at him.
The way she said:
*He looks at you like he’s waiting for permission to say something.*
My phone suddenly buzzed.
Both of us looked down.
A message.
From Devin.
My hands went cold as I opened it.
One sentence.
One sentence that made me forget how to breathe.
*Simone, don’t trust Malik. I found the original documents. They prove he’s been lying about the money.*
I looked at Malik.
He looked at me.
And in that moment, I realized something terrifying.
One of them was manipulating me.
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