Chapter 3: What Godfrey's Phone Revealed
Godfrey listened for about ten seconds.
His eyes moved to Selina, then away.
"I have to go," he said into the phone.
"Put it on speaker," I said.
"Damian, this is a private—"
"Put it on speaker, Godfrey."
His jaw tightened.
But he looked at Phedra standing beside me, her hand still holding that folded paper, and something shifted in his face.
He pressed the button.
A man's voice filled the room.
Cautious.
Formal.
"Mr.
Godfrey, this is Terrence Abara from Meridian Financial.
We've been trying to reach you regarding the second loan application filed under your brother's name.
The underwriter flagged a discrepancy in the employment verification documents, and we need—"
I held up my hand.
Godfrey ended the call.
The room was so quiet I could hear Phedra breathing.
"A loan," I said.
"Filed under my name."
"It was nothing," Selina said quickly.
"A small business loan for the shop.
Godfrey needed a co-signer and you were unavailable, so we used—"
"You used my name without asking me."
"You were in Canada.
We needed to move fast."
"How much?"
Neither of them answered.
"How much?"
Godfrey looked at the floor.
"Forty thousand."
The number landed like something physical.
I stepped back, not because I was weak, but because I needed a wall behind me.
Forty thousand dollars borrowed in my name.
Nearly a hundred thousand sent from my wages.
Two doctor's visits in eleven months for a woman with cancer.
I looked at Phedra.
She was watching me with an expression I hadn't seen before — not fear, not hope.
Something quieter.
Like someone who had been waiting a long time for a door to open and wasn't sure yet if it really had.
"Did you know about the loan?" I asked her.
"I found out three months ago," she said.
"I heard them on the phone with the bank.
When I told Selina I was going to tell you, she took my phone."
Selina's chin came up.
"I was protecting this family."
"From what?" I said.
"From her." She pointed at Phedra.
"She was going to poison you against us.
She was already sending messages to your coworkers, trying to get someone to tell you—"
"She was trying to get treatment," I said.
"That's all she was trying to do."
Godfrey moved toward the hallway.
I stepped in front of him.
"Sit down."
"Damian, I'm not going to stand here and be—"
"Sit.
Down."
He sat.
I pulled up the banking app on my phone and turned the screen toward them.
The transfer history.
Every month for four years.
Every deposit I'd made into Selina's account, labeled clearly with the date and amount.
"I'm going to ask you one time," I said.
"Where is the money?"
Selina straightened.
"It went to the house.
To the family.
To keeping things running while you were gone.
That's what a family does."
"The shop," I said.
"The SUV.
The furniture.
The granite countertops." I paused.
"Her treatment.
Two visits."
"Treatment is expensive—"
"I know what treatment costs.
I called the oncology clinic from Calgary six months ago because Phedra sounded wrong on the phone.
The nurse told me a full course would run between eight and twelve thousand dollars.
I sent almost a hundred thousand." I put the phone back in my pocket.
"So I'll ask again.
Where is the rest of it?"
Selina opened her mouth.
Godfrey's phone buzzed on the cushion beside him.
A text this time.
He glanced at it and his face did something complicated.
"What is it?" Selina said.
He turned the phone over face-down on the cushion.
"Godfrey." Her voice had an edge now.
"What does it say?"
He didn't answer her.
He looked at me instead.
May you like
"There's something else," he said quietly.
"Something she didn't tell you."
