Chapter 1: He Was Still Living With His Baby Mama
My father was standing in the middle of my living room with my phone in his hand when I walked downstairs.
He didn't say hello.
He didn't ask how my day had been.
He just looked at me like he had discovered something I had been trying to hide and said, “Tell me you did not give that man your money.””
I stopped on the last step.
For a second, I thought I had walked into the wrong apartment.
The warm smell of the pasta I had cooked earlier still lingered in the air. The television was paused on a movie Jordan and I had been watching before he left for his night shift. A half-folded blanket sat on the couch, and two wine glasses rested on the coffee table.
It looked like a normal evening.
It felt like anything but.
“Dad,” I said slowly, “why are you holding my phone?””
Marcus Bennett did not answer the question.
“That’s not what I asked you.””
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
My father had always been like that. He was not the kind of man who slammed doors or threw things when he was angry. He didn’t have to. When Marcus Bennett was disappointed, the room felt smaller.
His shoulders tightened.
His jaw locked.
And his silence became louder than shouting.
I walked toward him and held out my hand.
“Give me my phone.””
He didn’t move.
“Nia.””
“Dad.””
“Tell me you did not send Jordan three thousand two hundred dollars.””
My hand froze in the air.
There it was.
The number I had been hoping he wouldn’t see.
My stomach dropped.
“You went through my phone?””
“You left it on the kitchen counter.””
“That does not mean you can read my notifications.””
“The bank alert lit up the screen.””
“That still doesn’t make it okay.””
“No,” he said.
“It doesn’t.””
For a moment, I thought he was going to apologize.
He didn’t.
Instead, he looked down at my phone again.
“Three thousand two hundred dollars, Nia.””
I crossed my arms.
“It’s my money.””
“Is it?””
The question hit harder than I expected.
I stared at him.
“What is that supposed to mean?””
“It means when your car needed repairs last month, who paid for it?””
I looked away.
“You did.””
“When your rent went up, who covered the difference?””
“Dad—”
“When you told me you wanted to save money to open your own business, who put ten thousand dollars into that account?””
I swallowed.
“You did.””
“Exactly.””
He placed my phone on the table.
“So don’t stand there and tell me it’s none of my business when you’re taking the money I gave you to build your future and handing it to a man who should be building his own.””
I felt heat rise into my face.
“He needed help.””
Dad let out a short laugh.
There was no humor in it.
“He needed help.””
“Yes.””
“For what?””
I hesitated.
Only for a second.
But my father noticed everything.
His eyes narrowed.
“You don’t know.””
“I know exactly what it was for.””
“Then tell me.””
I looked toward the window.
The city lights outside blurred slightly through the glass.
“Jordan was behind on some bills.””
“What bills?””
“Why are you interrogating me?””
“Because you’re my daughter.””
“I’m twenty-six years old.””
“And apparently old enough to make expensive mistakes.””
My chest tightened.
“That’s not fair.””
“What’s not fair?””
“You’ve already decided Jordan is the problem.””
Marcus stared at me.
“No. I’m looking at the situation in front of me.””
“You don’t know him.””
“I know enough.””
“You barely spend time with him.””
“I’ve spent enough time watching him show up late, make excuses, and let you solve problems that belong to him.””
I looked down.
Because the worst part was that I knew what he meant.
But knowing something and admitting it were two completely different things.
Jordan had always been charming.
That was the first thing everyone noticed about him.
He had a smile that made people feel like they were the only person in the room. He remembered tiny details. He knew how to make a bad day feel lighter.
When we first met at a coffee shop two years earlier, he had noticed my favorite book sitting beside my laptop and started a conversation about it.
Three hours later, we were still talking.
I thought I had found someone who understood me.
Someone who saw me.
My father saw something else.
A pattern.
“You love him,” Dad said quietly.
The sudden change in his voice caught me off guard.
I looked up.
“Yes.””
“Then answer one question.””
“What?””
“Why are you the only one sacrificing?””
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Because I had an answer.
I just didn’t want to say it.
“Relationships aren’t always fifty-fifty,” I whispered.
“No.””
Dad nodded.
“They aren’t.””
He picked up his jacket from the chair.
“Sometimes one person carries more because the other person is struggling.””
I relaxed slightly.
Then he continued.
“But struggling is temporary. Taking advantage is a choice.””
My face hardened.
“You think Jordan is using me?””
“I think a man who loves you should not be comfortable watching you empty your savings while he does nothing.””
“He’s trying.””
“Trying how?””
“He’s figuring things out.””
“Nia.””
“What?””
“When a person is figuring things out, they don’t usually ask someone else to pay the bill every time they get stuck.””
I hated how reasonable he sounded.
I hated that a small part of me wondered if he was right.
My phone buzzed on the table.
Both of us looked at it.
A message appeared.
Jordan.
I reached for it quickly, but Dad saw my expression before I even unlocked the screen.
“What?””
“Nothing.””
“Nia.””
I sighed.
“It’s not important.””
“Then why did your whole face change?””
I didn’t answer.
Because the message wasn’t about the money.
It was about something else.
Something I had been avoiding.
I opened it.
Jordan had sent one sentence.
*We need to talk before your dad finds out everything.*
My heartbeat changed.
Slow.
Heavy.
I read it again.
Before your dad finds out everything.
Everything.
My fingers went cold.
“What does that mean?”” Dad asked.
I locked my phone.
“Nothing.””
He studied me.
“Nia.””
“Dad, please.””
For the first time that night, his expression softened.
Not because he believed me.
Because he knew I was scared.
“You need to ask yourself why a man who loves you is worried about your father finding out the truth.””
I looked away.
“I said it’s nothing.””
Dad picked up his keys.
“I hope you’re right.””
He walked toward the door.
I wanted to stop him.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong.
I wanted to tell him Jordan loved me.
But the words wouldn’t come.
Because deep down, I knew something had changed.
Something I couldn’t ignore anymore.
My father opened the door.
Then he paused.
“Nia?””
“Yeah?””
He looked back at me.
“Does Jordan have a place of his own?””
The question felt strangely simple.
Almost harmless.
But I knew there was a reason he asked.
I frowned.
“Of course he does.””
Dad stared at me for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
“Then why did I see his name on an address change form in your mailbox?””
The room went silent.
My breath caught.
“What address change form?””
Dad’s face tightened.
“The one from last week.””
I stepped closer.
“Dad, what are you talking about?””
He reached into his jacket pocket.
Slowly.
And pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“I didn’t want to believe it either.””
My hands started shaking.
“Believe what?””
My father unfolded the paper and looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Fear.
“Nia…”
He looked down at the name printed on the form.
Then back at me.
“Your boyfriend hasn’t been staying with you because he’s between apartments.””
My heart sank.
“What are you saying?””
Dad swallowed.
“I’m saying Jordan never moved out.””
The words barely reached me.
“Moved out of where?””
My father handed me the paper.
And when I saw the address written underneath Jordan’s name, I felt the entire world tilt.
Because it wasn’t an old apartment.
It wasn’t a friend’s house.
It was a place I had heard about before.
A place Jordan swore was in his past.
At the top of the form were three words that made my blood run cold.
*Previous household member.*
May you like
And underneath it was a name I recognized immediately.
*Alyssa Carter.*