Chapter 6: The Man At The Door
The knock came at 8:12 the next morning.
Three loud hits.
Not a friendly knock.
Not someone stopping by.
A demand.
Malik was already awake.
He had barely slept since seeing the message on Yolanda's phone.
He stood in the hallway as Reggie walked toward the door.
"Stay back," his father said.
Malik frowned.
"Why?""
Reggie looked serious.
"Because I don't know who that is.""
The knock came again.
Harder.
Yolanda appeared from the kitchen.
The color drained from her face.
"No.""
Reggie looked at her.
"You know who it is.""
She didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Reggie opened the door.
A man stood outside.
Late forties.
Leather jacket.
Cold expression.
He looked past Reggie and immediately saw Yolanda.
"There you are.""
Yolanda stepped backward.
"What are you doing here?""
The man smiled.
Not kindly.
"Finishing what you started.""
Reggie stepped into the doorway.
"You need to leave.""
The man looked at him.
"You're Reggie.""
Not a question.
A statement.
"Who are you?"" Reggie asked.
The man ignored him.
He looked directly at Malik.
"You must be the kid.""
Malik felt uncomfortable.
"What do you want?""
The man smiled.
"I want my money.""
Reggie moved closer.
"My family doesn't owe you anything.""
The man's eyes shifted.
"Your wife knows better.""
Yolanda whispered:
"Don't.""
The man laughed.
"Still pretending?""
Malik looked between them.
"What is happening?""
Nobody answered.
The man reached into his jacket.
Reggie immediately tensed.
But the man pulled out a folder.
He threw it onto the porch.
Papers scattered.
"Ask her.""
Then he walked away.
Reggie picked up the folder.
Inside were copies of financial documents.
Bank records.
Loan papers.
And one page that made Malik stop breathing.
A transfer request.
The recipient name was visible.
*Malik Carter.*
Amount:
$5,000.
Malik looked at his father.
"What is this?""
Reggie looked confused.
Yolanda looked terrified.
"I didn't do that.""
Malik turned.
"Didn't do what?""
She shook her head.
"I never tried to take five thousand dollars.""
Reggie looked through the papers.
"Then why does this have your information?""
Nobody spoke.
Malik picked up another page.
A loan application.
His name.
His birthday.
His address.
Everything.
But one thing was wrong.
The signature.
It wasn't his.
It wasn't Reggie's.
It wasn't Yolanda's.
Someone had copied his identity.
Someone had been trying to use him.
"Who is he?"" Malik asked.
Yolanda sat down on the porch step.
Her hands were shaking.
"His name is Marcus.""
"Your sister's husband?""
She nodded.
"Yes.""
"What does he want?""
Yolanda looked at the papers.
Then at Malik.
"He wanted me to help him get money.""
"And you used mine.""
Her eyes filled.
"I used what I thought I could access.""
The sentence made Malik angry.
"Access?""
He stepped back.
"I'm a person, not an account.""
Yolanda closed her eyes.
"I know.""
"No, you don't.""
His voice broke.
"If you knew, you wouldn't have done it.""
Reggie stood beside him.
For once, he didn't hesitate.
"You need to tell us everything.""
Yolanda looked at him.
"I was scared.""
"Of him?""
She nodded.
"He knew about my past.""
"What past?""
She looked down.
"When I was younger, before I met you, I made some mistakes.""
Reggie stared.
"What kind of mistakes?""
Yolanda didn't answer.
Then her phone rang.
Everyone froze.
She looked at the screen.
The same number.
Marcus.
Reggie said:
"Put it on speaker.""
She hesitated.
Then answered.
A man's voice filled the porch.
"Did you find the papers?""
Nobody moved.
Yolanda said quietly:
"Marcus, stop.""
He laughed.
"Stop? You used the boy's refund. You took his savings. You were already doing the work for me.""
Malik felt sick.
Reggie looked at Yolanda.
"Is that true?""
Marcus continued.
"She was always good at taking care of problems.""
Yolanda stood.
"Leave my family alone.""
A pause.
Then Marcus said:
"Your family?""
His voice turned colder.
"Funny. Because your family doesn't know what you did before you married Reggie.""
The call ended.
Nobody spoke.
Malik looked at Yolanda.
"What did you do?""
She didn't answer.
Then Reggie picked up the folder again.
A single photograph slipped out.
An old photograph.
A younger Yolanda.
Standing beside Marcus.
And beside them...
A teenage boy Malik had never seen before.
On the back of the photo was a handwritten date.
May you like
And one sentence.
*The boy you abandoned is coming home.*
