The Affidavit

I screwed up.

Like I really screwed up.

I didn't do anything wrong, per say.

In fact, at the moment of said incident, I thought I was doing a good deed.

It was in a rebellious stage of my life.

I'd just turned eighteen, still in my senior year of high school. As you could imagine, I had the bare minimum amount of power. Over anything.

So, like any other typical eighteen- year old, I utilized my very small amount of power in any way I could.

I had my own car and worked a very part time job at a doctor's office as a receptionist. Usually I'd have to have some kind of medical experience to work at a place like this, but the owner of the practice was a good friend of my Mom's.

"Work whenever you can, honey," she encouraged enthusiastically.

I only worked Monday through Wednesdays after school from 4pm -9pm, and Saturday and Sunday from 8am-5pm.

I totaled a weekly amount of $330 on my paychecks. I bought my own groceries and paid my own car insurance. My Dad still paid my phone bill, but I planned to take that over on my next paycheck as well.

The need to pay for my own things came after an argument with my parents because I didn't want to go to school.

"If you want to make good money, you're going to need a degree," my dad pressed.

I just rolled my eyes as I sat quietly in the chair in the corner of the living room.

Mom just sat next to my Dad on the couch, nodding her head.

The sound from the TV played lightly in the background.

"Well, I hope when I get rich NOT going to University, you two don't ask me for anything," I snarled.

Mom raised her eyebrow, "we won't want your stripper money, sweetie."

I looked at her in disgust. The audacity!

I cleared my throat as I stood up. That was the time to make my exit. It was then or after I crossed a disrespectful boundary with my parents.

I walked to the exit and opened the front door.

"Nyla," my father called as he turned to look at me.

I froze at the door with one foot already outside. I leaned back slightly (so my head was within his view) and looked at him.

"Make sure that if you aren't going away to university, you find yourself a place to stay by the end of the school year," he said, then turned his attention back to the TV without giving me a chance to respond.

The eighteen-year-old me would have blamed the events that followed on my parents for making me feel like I had to prove that I was an adult.

But now, at the age of thirty-two, I knew I had responsibilities. And one thing I knew was that my parents played no role in any of the actions I took.

It was completely my decision to walk to the ice cream parlor that day. And when I stepped into that parlor, it was my mind that took extra note of a melancholy girl who sat lonely at the bar.

Mia was an associate of mine. We made multiple exchanges throughout the four years of high school. We both took part in athletics. One sport we shared an interest in, back before I started working so much, was track. Once you are on the same sports team as someone, that person automatically becomes part of your school family.

So, when I noticed she seemed down, I felt obligated to check on her. I walked up to the empty seat beside her and sat down.

"Hi Mia," I smiled, "what's wrong?"

Mia was slow to acknowledge me. It was obvious she made a decision on whether or not she wanted to speak.

But after a few moments, she dragged her head over so that it was slightly in my direction. She kept her eyes on the table, though, as she greeted me, "Oh, hey Nyla. I'm just waiting on a sundae."

Despite her very obvious hints of wanting to be left alone, I continued to engage. "Oh, me too," I smiled. "I guess a sundae is the best cure to a bad day."

Mia looked at me, now intrigued. "What's wrong with you?"

"Just my parents. They want to force me to do something I don't want to do."

Mia scoffed, "same. What do you want to do?"

"I just want to skip college and go straight to work," I said proudly.

Mia shrugged, "I don't see anything wrong with that. If I wanted to go straight to work, my parents would be proud."

"I thought my parents would be too," I shrugged, "what's going on with you and your parents?"

Mia sighed as she looked forward to the parlor menu. "They don't want to help me with visiting my boyfriend."

Everyone in school knew of Mia's boyfriend. Well, we didn't really know his name or what he looked like, but we all knew he was from the Dominican Republic.

Of course, we all assumed the worst of the situation: 'It's weird for her to go all the way to a different country just to find a guy.' 'She probably sends him money.' 'He's definitely cheating on her.' 'He's probably using her for a green card.'

But, nevertheless, I was not here to judge.

"That's so unfair, " I declared.

"Yes, it is," Mia nodded.

We talked about our parents for about thirty minutes. Two sundaes in, we were now gassing each other up.

"You're going to be a millionaire in your twenties and your parents can't even see it," Mia shook her head.

"Nevermind that," I sighed, "You have actually found real love and your parents can't even support it."

We both stared off into space for a moment, in thought.

"You know, Mia," I began, breaking the moment of silence. "If you ever need help with anything regarding your boyfriend, you can always come to me."

Mia raised an eyebrow, "really?"

I shrugged, "Yeah girl! I'm going to be a millionaire soon anyway, so I got you."

Mia smiled, "I got you too, you know."

I laughed, "How do you ‘got’ me?"

"You need a place to stay until you get an apartment since you won't be going to school, right?"

Now, I raised an eyebrow, "I do."

"Well, you can move in with me for the meantime." Mia said enthusiastically. "I'll only be moving six hours away from here. And you don't have to pay rent because my scholarship covers that."

My eyes widened, "get out. You'd let me live with you?"

"You'd really help me see my boyfriend," she shrugged. "You got me and I got you."

And she did. She had me.

After graduating high school, I moved six hours away from home to live with Mia in her apartment in Memphis, Tennessee. Because I had started saving all the way at the beginning of senior year, I only had to live with Mia for three months before I was able to move out on my own.

In that time, I got to personally meet her boyfriend, Antonio over video call. He wasn't exactly the nicest guy. I could definitely see why Mia's parents weren't very excited with her dating him. But I remained supportive for the time I lived there. I figured they'd break up on their own or figure it out.

After moving, I wouldn't hear from Mia again for about five years.

Within those five years, I only attended school for a total of four months before receiving my real estate license at the age of nineteen. By age twenty, I had made a six-figure profit in my career. By the age of twenty-one, I was able to buy a home for myself back home in Georgia.

I moved my parents there so they could finally leave that tiny two-bedroom house they'd been renting for years.

By the age of twenty-three, I was able to buy two more houses for myself. I had bought one out in Orlando and one in Houston. It was all strategic. I planned to renovate the houses and then rent them out to tourists. After buying those two homes, I was officially considered a millionaire, even though I only had $200,000 in savings, $6,000 in my checking, and a total of $500 in cash. I was still working up my money, though, and I was quite content with the life I was making for myself.

I had also sparked a love interest with a man who was in school to be a neurosurgeon. His name was Hazelle Xavier and he was the most beautiful man I had ever met. He had beautiful chocolate skin and a crown of locs in his head. He had a beard and mustache that connected and he almost always wore a suit.

He treated me like an absolute queen.I had started living with him in his luxury apartment in California back when i was twenty-two He refused to let me pay a dime towards any of the bills. He was an intern at the Stanford Hospital.

For me, life was going well.

I was twenty-four years old when I ran into Mia again. Honestly, I never expected to see her again. You could say that I would’ve been happy with never seeing her again. I may have even taken a couple of steps to avoid her. After how long it took me to get to where I was, I didn’t want to risk losing it. Call it a gut feeling, but I felt like helping Mia just might be the thing to destroy me. But I went home to Georgia to visit my parents that spring. I was hoping Mia wouldn’t be there, but she was. Mia ran into me as I was loading my rental car, preparing to go home.

"Oh my God!!! Nyla, is that you?" She asked in excitement.

Something in the pit of my stomach told me this was no coincidence.

"Mia! How are you? You look great!"

Now, the eighteen-year-old me would have blamed the following events on my parents and their stubbornness, for not wanting to move closer to me and my boyfriend out in California. Because if they had moved to California, there would have been no need for me to come back to Georgia.

But the present me knew that I was responsible for my own actions. Even if they were actions made at the age of eighteen. And it was at the age of eighteen that I told Mia I'd do anything to help her see her boyfriend. And it was Mia who let me live with her for a few months after graduating high school.

So, although Mia attempted the small talk, I took it upon myself to jump right into business.

"So, how is Antonio?" I asked enthusiastically.

"Oh, he's great. We're actually married now."

My eyes widened slightly in shock.

"I'm filing for him right now. We're actually at the end of the process, so he should be here within a couple of months." She continued.

"That's great," I cheered as I continued to load my car. "So you were able to get everything figured out with the two of you?"

She nodded but was slow to answer. "Well, it's funny that I ran into you because I could use your help with one small thing."

Of course she needed my help.

"Oh, what's up?"

"Well, they say I don't make enough to support both me and him," she said as she rolled her eyes, "So they need someone to, like, co-sign for me."

I stopped packing and stared at her for a moment, not fully understanding what she was saying.

She stared back at me, slowly rocking her body back and forth as she waited patiently for me to respond.

Then, I furrowed my brow, "shit, Mia."

"I know," she sighed as she shifted her weight and looked at the ground.

"When I said I'd help, I was thinking more in terms of, like, with a flight or a hotel room, or something."

"I know," she repeated, still looking at the ground.

We both stood in silence for a moment.

Then, Mia lifted her head up with a new wave of energy, "it's really not as serious as it sounds."

I raised an eyebrow. This girl must think I'm an idiot.

"I mean he's going to be working and I'm going to be working, so we really don't even need you. The affidavit is just like insurance. You know. Like, just in case."

I sighed, "Mia I am not about to sign a document that says I have to take care of your husband for you."

Mia grimaced, "Damn, Nyla. It's not even like that. You know how this country is. They just want to make sure he doesn't end up on their government assistance or something like that. They're only considering my income. They're not even thinking about him coming out here and working too.

I must be an idiot to actually be considering doing this. I mean, it was only three months but she still gave me a place to sleep when I needed it. I really did owe her.

I sighed, "okay-"

"Oh my God! Thank you so much Nyla!" Mia exclaimed as she threw her arms around my neck.

I gave her two pats on the back before backing out of the embrace, "sure."

I closed the trunk of my car. "I have to catch a flight, but if you email me the form-"

"Oh, don't worry about it," she interjected.

Then she began tugging at a briefcase that rested at her hip. I never noticed this briefcase until just this moment. I was now 100% convinced that this "run-in" with Mia was no coincidence.

"I have the form right here," she said as she pulled out a document and a pen.

I grimaced at her, then took the document and skimmed over it.

"Ten years!?" I exclaimed.

"It's just insurance, " Mia repeated as she put her hand up in a calming gesture.

I sighed as I set the document on top of the trunk of my car and put the pen to the signature line. "This better not come back to bite me, Mia."

"It won't," she assured.

Then, very carefully, I signed my name on the document.

She was right.

For the next three years, it was as though that document meant nothing.

But then, at the age of twenty-seven, that all changed.

It was the day of my boyfriend's graduation. He had been accepted into the Stanford hospital's residency program.

We had moved out of his luxury apartment and into a beautiful beach house last year. He wouldn't let me pay a dime towards the mortgage, but insisted that both of our names were on the lease.

It was at this house, after Hazelle's graduation celebration, just after he had surprised me with an engagement ring in front of all our peers, right after I made the easiest decision ever by saying yes, right after running into his arms and sharing a very passionate kiss with my, now, fiancé, in the middle of thinking to myself that life for me couldn't possibly get any better...

It was at that moment, just after we said goodbye to our last guest, that we heard a knock on the door.

"I'll get it, my darling fiancé," I joked as I floated over to the door.

You probably could've sworn there were birds flying around my head, tweeting the most beautiful song just before I opened that door.

But then, almost instantly after twisting that doorknob and cracking that door open, those birds flew away as rain and thunder poured over my head.

There were two men who stood at my door.

One was a middle-aged man. He had salt and pepper hair with a gray beard. He wore a black suit and held a briefcase in his hand.

The man standing beside him was much younger. He was very light skinned, almost red, and had red, curly hair. He was obviously Hispanic. He was dressed more casual and had a suitcase hanging at his side.

I felt like I already knew who these people were before I even opened my mouth, but still, I asked, "Hi, may I help you?"

"Hi, I am state attorney Michael Austin," the suited man answered. "This is my client, Antonio Martes. May we come in?"

My brow furrowed up in confusion, but I wasn't confused. The minute he said the name Antonio, I knew exactly what was going on. Still, I played the confused role, hoping there was still a chance that this wasn't my worst nightmare coming to life.

"No, what do you want?"

Michael raised his eyebrows in shock, "we didn't mean to disturb you ma'am, we're looking for a Miss Nyla Smith."

"For what? Why is he here?" I asked as I gestured at Antonio.

I heard footsteps closing in behind me, then, Hazelle was up against my backside, his arm above my head, grabbing the door to open it wider.

"Hello," he said as he assessed the situation, "Well, I was coming to say we aren't interested, but you two don't look like you're selling cookies," he joked.

The lawyer smiled, "no sir, we aren't. We're actually here about a legal matter regarding Miss Nyla Smith."

"Oh, a legal matter?" He said.

I could feel him glance down at me, but I kept my eyes on Michael and Antonio.

"Yes, sir," Michael said.

"Oh, okay, " Hazelle said as he grabbed my waist and pulled me out of the way of the entrance, "come on in."

We all stood around the island inside of the kitchen. Antonio just stood quietly, staring at the counter. Hazelle's eyes bounced from me, to Michael, to Antonio. I could tell he was thinking the worst. But what Hazelle was thinking, in my opinion, would probably have been better than what was actually going on.

Michael had placed his briefcase on top of the island and was shuffling through a bunch of papers.

"Miss Smith, " he addressed me once he finished shuffling his papers.

I cleared my throat and looked at him, but didn't answer.

"You recognize Mr. Martes, don't you?"

"Umm, we've spoken once or twice."

"Well he was picked up by the Memphis Police Department after multiple complaints were made about him sleeping at a bus stop."

"What?" I asked. Then I looked at Antonio. "Why were you sleeping at a bus stop?"

Antonio shrugged as he finally looked up at us, "Mia left me."

Left him? "Well, where is she?" I asked.

"We were unable to locate her, " Michael answered.

"You're kidding, " I laughed lightly in disbelief.

Hazelle looked at me in confusion, "what's going on, baby?"

"Well," Michael started, "Antonio, here, is married to a young woman named Mia Martes. She filed for him to come to the United States about three years ago. At the time, Mrs. Martes wasn't making enough to take care of herself and Mr. Martes. The government didn't feel comfortable letting Mr. Martes come to the United States unless Mrs. Martes had someone else who wouldn't mind helping her take care of him financially. Miss Smith, here, signed a form known as the Affidavit of Support, which basically holds her accountable for the financial well being of Mr. Martes for the length of his residency in this country, should Mrs. Martes be unable to do so herself."

"Nyla, " Hazelle said my name in disapproval.

I looked at him and he looked very disappointed.

"You didn't..."

"I did," I admitted.

He put his hands on his hips and looked to the ceiling, "Damn." Then, he looked at me and shook his head.

"Damn, " he repeated.

"Hazelle, " I said, as I reached for his arm.

He moved away from me and walked out of the kitchen. I have never seen Hazelle so upset before.

In my brain, everything was falling apart as I watched him walk away.

Now, the twenty-seven year old me wanted to hate Mia. She wanted to hate Mia so bad for even putting us in this situation. But, the present me knew that it was a decision I made to uphold a juvenile promise I made to a friend whom I didn't even keep in contact with anymore.

It was my own actions that led us to this moment right now. My actions that had put my relationship on the rocks before it even really started. And it was me who was being told that I had to take care of a fully grown man that I barely knew, not Mia.

"Miss Smith," Michael called, pulling me out of my daze.

I allowed my eyes to shift between Antonio and Michael.

"Well, he can't stay here, " I said in irritation.

"He doesn't have to, " Michael said, "but he can't stay in the streets."

"Don't you have any family out here?" I asked Antonio.

He shook his head.

"Well then, maybe you should go back to the Dominican Republic." I suggested. "I'll book you a flight."

"No!" Antonio shouted.

I furrowed my brow as I grimaced at him. What does he mean 'No'?

Michael put a hand up at Antonio, gesturing for him to calm down. "Mr. Martes isn't interested in going back home at this time," Michael said.

Now, I turned my face to grimace at him, "well, he doesn't have much of a choice, " I said with obvious irritation.

"Miss Smith," Michael started again. I was getting tired of hearing his voice, "my client was given a ten- year green card to live in this country. Because he was given that green card, he has a right to be here. And because you signed that affidavit, you are required by law to care for him financially."

"I can't help him, " I shrugged.

"Well then, our next step would be taking the matter to court. We'd sue for an amount that will be large enough to care for him for the next seven years. He will be automatically granted the money and Mrs. Martes will be billed. But, of course, since Mrs. Martes is nowhere to be found, the bill will be forwarded to you. If you refuse to pay it, it will begin to diminish your funds and anything in your name. Not to mention the negative impact it would have on your credit score."

I glared into space, trying to figure out where or when to pinpoint this screw up. Was it the day I decided to comfort Mia at the ice cream parlor? Or the day that I accepted her official offer to live with her, thus making me feel obligated to help her back? Or was it the day I actually helped her back by signing a very seemingly simple document.

I never should've trusted her with something so valuable, but trust was my mistake.

"Miss Smith," Michael's voice rang into focus as I drifted back to the kitchen of my house.

I glanced at him and raised an eyebrow as I tried to process what was about to happen.

"What do you want to do?" He asked.

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind, "yes, I'll take care of him," I said.

Antonio's face became visibly brighter after that.

"Thank you," Antonio chimed as I closed the door behind Michael.

I turned and glared at Antonio.

"I'll be invisible in your house," he said.

"Oh, no," I said, "you're not living here."

Antonio's brow furrowed. "But, the lawyer said-"

"I know what the lawyer said," I snapped. "Just wait here," I said as I walked off into the back of the house.

At the back of the house, there was a slide door in the family room that led to the patio.

On the patio is where I found Hazelle. He was sitting in a chair from the table set we'd placed out there.

As he heard me pull the slide door open, he began shaking his head.

"Hazelle," I started once I'd stepped onto the patio and closed the slide door behind me."

"No, Nyla, I don't want to hear your apologies." He said.

I stood quietly, looking at him, but he kept his head down at his feet.

"Three years ago," he said, "That's when you signed this affidavit?"

He didn't look up at me, but I nodded in confirmation.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Nyla, but weren't we living together at that time?"

"No, we were," I said quietly.

"Right, right," he nodded as he looked up at me. His hands rested in his lap throughout this time. "I'd like to think we were pretty serious then."

"We were serious, Hazelle."

"Then why didn't you talk to me before signing your name on that document, Nyla?"

"I didn't think this document was serious." I said.

Hazelle shook his head once again, "Don't lie to me Nyla. You're a realtor. I'm a surgeon. If anybody is going to be thorough about things we sign our names to, it's going to be us."

"You're right," I said, "I trusted the worst side of myself the day I signed that paper. Even though it said I could be responsible for a whole other person, I thought the chances of that happening were unlikely because he's an adult. Him and Mia were together a long time too. I didn't think they'd ever split."

"Damn, Nyla," Hazelle sighed.

"Hazelle," I started. "Please don't be mad. If I had known it was going to impact me this greatly, I would've never signed it."

I walked over to him and squeezed in between his legs. He moved his hands and allowed me to sit on his lap.

"I promise I'll never make a big decision without you again. I won't even make a small decision without you. Even if I'm just buying a pair of shoes, I won't buy any until you know," I said.

Hazelle looked at me for a moment, as though he was examining me. Then he smiled as he stroked my hair, "I can't stay mad at you."

With his hands still in my hair, he pulled my face closer to his, motioning for me to kiss him. So I did.

We kissed for a few moments while his free hand hugged my waist tightly.

Then, he pulled out of our embrace and looked at me seriously, "he can't stay here, Nyla."

"I know," I said. "I will handle him. It'll be like he never existed."

After talking to Hazelle, we both came back into the house.

Hazelle went up the stairs which were located in the front room right by the front door. Passing Antonio, Hazelle made certain not to acknowledge him at all.

I looked over to Antonio, who was standing opposite to the staircase.

"Grab your things," I said.

…

"Where are you taking me?" Antonio asked once we were in the car, driving.

"For tonight, you're going to a hotel." I said. "In the morning, we'll be catching a flight to Texas. I have a house out there that you can live in for the time being."

"Oh, okay," Antonio said.

After a moment of silence in the car, I asked, "why did she leave you?"

He was hesitant to answer. "You wouldn't like me if I told you."

I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the road, "I already dislike you."

He looked down at his lap as he smiled lightly to himself. Then he looked back at me. "She caught me sleeping with a girl from our job whom she really dislikes."

I gave him a quick glance of disgust before returning my eyes to the road. "She could've had your ass deported for that," I snarled.

"I know," he said with indifference, "but she'd never do something like that to me. She loves me too much. So she left instead."

I hated how nonchalant he was about this entire situation. He didn't deserve to be here.

"I'm not a bad person," he said looking out the window. "I never lied to her about the person I was. I guess she thought when we got together, it would change, but I never told her it would."

"Yeah," I said, rolling my eyes, "that didn't exactly clear your name."

Antonio shrugged and we drove the rest of the way in silence.

Once we got to the hotel, I checked Antonio in and then walked him to his room on the third floor.

"Okay, so they serve dinner from 7pm-10pm." I said. "It's about 8:30ish right now, so you still have time to get something to eat. Make sure you grab something in the morning too. They serve breakfast from 6am-9am. I'll be here to pick you up at 7am. Make sure you're ready."

Antonio nodded.

The next day, we made it to Texas around two in the afternoon.

Antonio stood in the front room of the house turning in circles, slowly as he took everything in. "This house is huge," he said.

"Yep," I nodded.

The house really was big. And very pretty. It was a five bedroom. There were two bedrooms downstairs. They surrounded the front room, which was very big and round. There was a bathroom down there as well. The kitchen was parallel to the front door. It was open and stretched very wide. There was an entrance in the kitchen that led to the dining room. Through the kitchen was the only way to get to it. There were two sets of stairs on opposite sides of the front room. Those stairs led to the other three bedrooms and another bathroom. There was another huge living room up there. In both, the front room and living room, there were huge sectional couches and giant flat screen tvs that hung from the walls. In the living room, there were multiple different gaming systems and a surround sound system. Up against the wall where the TV hung, was a shelf that encased a bunch of games and movies.

The house in Florida was set up similarly to this one.

All the bedrooms had queen-sized beds. I brought Antonio to the master bedroom which also had its on bathroom and a walk-in closet.

"This is your room," I told him.

"You must be rich," he said as he looked around the room in awe.

"Not that it's any of your business," I said, "but I do well for myself."

It was true, I'd managed to make a small fortune off of my career and the small business I'd started.

Originally, I was terrified to buy this house. It was either going to make or break me. And I couldn't help but think about what if it broke me.

It obviously worked out. After fixing the house up and furnishing it, I began renting it out as an Airbnb and it got booked up for the entire year my first week that I listed it.

I had to take it off the listings for now, since Antonio was there. I just needed to make sure he'd be fine there before posting it back up. I was hoping he would be because I made a lot of money off of this house.

"There will be someone coming by regularly to deal with the upkeep of the house," I told Antonio.

"His name is Reggie. He'll be bringing you food and anything else you might need."

"Okay," Antonio nodded.

"Great, " I said. "I have to go now. I'll call to check in when I get back home."

The next four months went great. It was like Antonio never existed, just as I said it would be. Hazelle and I were happy again. I spent a lot of time meeting him at the hospital for lunch. It was at those times that we'd discuss our wedding.

Things were going great on Antonio's end too. We were able to find him a job working at a car factory. I insisted he work there because it was easy work and they paid really great money for it. I was also able to start renting the rooms out again. Antonio seemed to handle that well too. There was only one altercation where some weird woman contacted me and told me she was uncomfortable living under the same roof as a foreigner. I just refunded her money and told her to find somewhere else to stay.

I had been taking monthly trips out there to check-in on the house as well.

Everything was going great. At this rate, I was sure Antonio wouldn't be my problem much longer.

After those four months though, things changed. Like, a lot.

About two weeks after moving Antonio in the house, I noticed my profit wasn't as big as it usually was. It was never that big of a difference for me to be concerned, though.

I tried contacting Reggie about it, but there was always a busy signal. Reggie had been my trustee for a very long time. He worked for my house out in Florida as well. Because of our relationship, I wasn't quick to contact his employer. I knew he could get in a lot of trouble. It could even cost his job. I even took extra trips out to Texas on days that he'd usually be out there, hoping I'd catch him in person. I never did though. But still, the change in my profit wasn't alarming enough to sell out a close friend.

I should have though. Because after those four months, I got a call from my bank. They told me they were foreclosing on my house in Texas and that the house in Florida was due for foreclosure very soon.

"What the hell are you talking about!?" I screeched.

"Ma'am," the lady sounded irritated by my anger. "You haven't paid your mortgage in months. We've sent you notices and you didn't respond."

Now, the eighteen-year-old me might've blamed Reggie for not answering my calls. Hell, the twenty-seven-year-old me probably would've blamed him too. But at my current age, I had learned to accept that it was me who had chosen loyalty over self-security. It was me who felt that my relationship with Reggie was too good to worry about him doing such a thing to me. It was me who chose trust in a career field that was full of snakes.

I cried when my advisor told me to let the bank have the house.

"It's too much interest that's been built up on it." Carmella told me over the phone. "The profit isn't worth the interest. Let them foreclose on it and pay off the debt on the house in Florida. We'll have to start back from square one.”

I called Reggie's job immediately.

"Hi Miss Nyla," Reggie said once my call finally got to him, "how can I help you?"

Miss Nyla? Was he joking?? "Don't be condescending, Reggie," I snarled. "You're lucky I didn't go directly to your superior."

"Go to my superior for what!?" He retorted.

"You've been stealing from me, Reggie. Did you think I wouldn't find out? My whole house is being foreclosed!"

"First off, Nyla," he said angrily, "don't call my job threatening me. That ain't a smart direction to go in. I haven't made contact with either of your properties since you replaced me, like, three months ago!"

Replaced him!? "What are you talking about?"

I could hear him smack his lips through the phone. "You know what I'm talking about. You replaced me like it wasn't a big deal. You didn't even give me any advance notice or apologize. I thought we were closer than that."

"I never replaced you, Reggie," I said in confusion.

"Nyla," he scoffed. "I spoke to you directly, just to make sure. I asked you about a guy named Marcell. You told me it checked out."

"Marcell," I whispered.

I remembered that phone call. In my very weak defense, I was quite busy during that call. I was out doing a cake tasting with Hazelle's mother and sister. Afterwards. They insisted on going to a bar at 3 in the afternoon. I was still in the phase of trying to win them over, so of course I obliged. It was at that bar that Reggie called me.

The conversation I THOUGHT I heard was him telling me that he had a new worker under him, Marcell. He wanted to make sure it was okay with me if he gave him access to my funds. And, because I trusted Reggie, I gave him the okay and hurried off the phone.

How the call actually went was a bit different. Apparently Reggie had run into this 'Marcell' character on his way to check up on the property. Marcell had told him he'd been replaced and Reggie had called me to confirm before handing over access to all my funds.

After that call, I found myself on the next available flight to Houston. There was no Marcell. It was very obvious that Antonio was the one who was behind all of this. He really thought I wouldn't notice? Eventually??

When I got to the house, the lawn looked horrific. There was garbage all over and the grass looked like it hadn't been trimmed in months. The door was already open. I burst into the house angrily.

Antonio was sitting on the front room couch with one of the lady guests cuddled up against him. His head popped up in shock when the door swung open.

The house was a mess. I glared at Antonio. At this moment, I wanted to kill him.

I intended to remain calm though. As calm as I could, at least. I would ask Antonio about this Marcell character. I expected him to admit that Marcell wasn't real, but to say that Reggie made him up. If he had said that, I could've caught him in a lie right there. Because I knew Reggie long enough to know he wouldn't lie about something like this.

And maybe that proof was a bit weak, but I would've had something.

That isn't what happened though. When I asked Antonio about Marcell and the integrity of the house, he just confirmed what Reggie said. Almost like he was there watching it happen.

"Yeah, some guy came and told Reggie that you said he was the new accountant. Ever since then, no one has come to check-in." He shrugged.

"So how have you been eating?" I asked.

"I've been buying food with my paychecks," he said.

I had to go out to Texas regardless of his answers. I knew deep down that he was lying. I knew that he had stolen from me, but there was currently no way to prove it.

If I wanted to get rid of him, I'd need proof. Since I didn't have proof, I still had to care for him. Which meant I had to find him a new place to live.

He definitely couldn't go to my house in Florida. Not after what he did to this one. He most certainly couldn't live at my parents' house. That left only my house.

The dread that filled me as I realized things were about to get a lot worse, was indescribable.