The probate court’s decision echoed through the Holloway Heritage halls. Albert was unequivocally competent. Marcus’s attempt to paint him as senile had backfired spectacularly. The mood in the office was cautiously optimistic, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in months.
But Marcus was not one to give up easily. He cornered me in the breakroom, the smell of burnt popcorn lingering in the air.
He leaned against the counter, blocking my path, a casual menace in his posture.
“Well, that was quite the show, Nia,” he said, his voice low, laced with venom. “Your little act with the old man.”
I ignored him, trying to squeeze past. He didn’t move.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about,” he sneered. “Playing the loving fiancée to an octogenarian? Disgusting.”
I kept my face expressionless. “What do you want, Marcus?”
He pushed off the counter, stepping closer. “I want you to drop this charade. Don’t marry Albert. End this nonsense.”
“Why?” I asked, a flicker of defiance in my voice. “Afraid of what a ‘founder’s spouse’ might uncover?”
His eyes narrowed, a dark storm brewing behind them. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? With your pawn receipts and your smart-aleck daughter.”
My blood ran cold. He knew about the pawn receipt. He knew Maya was involved.
“Maya,” he repeated, savoring the name. “Such a bright kid. Straight A’s, I hear. Ivy League dreams.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Leave Maya out of this.”
He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Oh, but I can’t. You see, after David died, I was appointed the sole trustee for Maya’s college savings account.”
My stomach dropped. I remembered David, in his optimistic way, telling me he’d set up a trust for Maya’s education, managed by family. He’d never specified who, just that it was “all taken care of.”
“Yes, Nia,” Marcus continued, his voice softer, crueler. “Your husband, in his infinite trust, gave *me* control over the entire fund. The $80,000 for her tuition, her dorm, her books… it’s all in my hands.”
He watched my face, enjoying my rising panic.
“If you go through with this marriage,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, “I will liquidate that account. Every single penny. Maya will have nothing. Her future, gone. You think you’re protecting her? You’ll be destroying her.”
My vision blurred. $80,000. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was everything for Maya’s future. David had worked so hard for that.
“You wouldn’t,” I choked out, a raw pain in my voice.
He grinned, a predatory flash of teeth. “Oh, I would. Try me. The moment you sign those marriage papers, the trust vanishes. She’ll be working three jobs just to afford community college, if she’s lucky.”
He took another step back, leaving me trapped in the small space, reeling from his threat.
“So, Nia,” he said, turning to leave, “what’s it going to be? Your daughter’s future, or your little revenge fantasy?”
The breakroom suddenly felt suffocating. I was caught between protecting Maya’s dreams and exposing the man who had ruined our lives. It was an unbearable choice.
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