Chapter 5
For a moment, I thought I had read the document incorrectly.
I looked at Aunt Lorraine.
"Mom left me the house?"
She nodded.
"Your grandparents bought the land years ago. Your mother and father built the house together, but your mother's family provided most of the money."
I looked down again.
The document named a trust.
A trustee.
And me.
Its future beneficiary.
"But Dad always said this was our family home."
"It was," Lorraine said gently. "Your mother wanted it to remain that way."
Vanessa reached for the document.
"Let me see that."
Lorraine moved it away.
"Absolutely not."
Vanessa's face flushed.
"Richard and I are married. I have a right to know what's going on."
"You have a right to speak with an attorney," Lorraine replied.
Brianna glanced between us.
"Mom?"
Vanessa ignored her.
"This is ridiculous."
I kept reading.
The trust allowed my father to live in the house during my childhood.
Once I turned eighteen, I would receive ownership, subject to the trust's terms.
My birthday had been three weeks earlier.
A strange feeling moved through my chest.
All those years Vanessa had threatened to throw me out.
All those nights she'd told me I should be grateful to have a roof over my head.
And the entire time, my mother had been protecting that roof for me.
I covered my mouth.
Lorraine touched my shoulder.
"Your mother was a careful woman."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Lorraine looked pained.
"I asked your father to explain the trust before your birthday. He told me he'd handle it."
My eyes filled with tears.
Of course he had.
He was always going to handle things.
Later.
When work slowed down.
When Vanessa wasn't upset.
When he had time.
Then the front door opened.
"What's going on?"
My father stood in the hallway.
He looked exhausted.
Vanessa immediately hurried toward him.
"Richard, thank God. Lorraine is here causing trouble."
He looked at Aunt Lorraine.
Then at me.
Then at the document in my hands.
His expression changed.
"Lorraine, why did you bring that?"
The room fell silent.
I stared at him.
"You knew?"
He closed his eyes.
"Nia—"
"You knew this house belongs to me?"
"It's more complicated than that."
"Is it?"
His shoulders dropped.
"Your mother left instructions."
I held up the paperwork.
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
Vanessa interrupted.
"Richard, what exactly is she talking about?"
My father looked at her.
"The house is held in a trust for Nia."
Vanessa's face went pale.
"What?"
"It was established before we married."
Brianna stepped backward.
I could almost see her calculating.
Vanessa turned toward me.
Then she forced a smile.
"Well, that's wonderful, Nia."
I stared at her.
"Is it?"
"Of course. We're family."
Something inside me finally snapped.
"Family?"
My voice shook.
"You let Brianna tear my dress."
"Nia, sweetheart—"
"Don't call me that."
She froze.
I took a breath.
"You've spent six years telling me I don't belong here."
Vanessa glanced at my father.
"Richard, she's twisting everything."
I reached for my laptop.
"No. I'm showing everything."
I played the camera recording.
My father watched without speaking.
He saw Brianna enter.
He saw Vanessa point toward the sewing room.
He saw the struggle.
He saw the torn dress fall to the floor.
Then he saw Vanessa smile.
His jaw tightened.
"Brianna."
She began crying instantly.
"Daddy Richard, it wasn't like that!"
He held up one hand.
"Don't."
I almost didn't recognize his voice.
He turned toward Vanessa.
"You told me Nia had an emotional episode."
Vanessa looked trapped.
"She did."
"I just watched what happened."
"That recording doesn't show everything."
"It shows enough."
But I wasn't finished.
I opened Camille's email.
Then I placed the forged withdrawal statement in front of him.
His eyes moved across the page.
"What is this?"
"Brianna tried to withdraw me from the scholarship competition."
He looked up.
"What?"
"She told one of the judges that my designs belonged to her."
Brianna started shaking her head.
"That's not true!"
I showed him the photograph.
Then the letter.
Then the copy of my original application.
He stared at Vanessa's signature.
"Did you witness this?"
Vanessa went silent.
"Answer me."
Her voice became defensive.
"Brianna was upset. She felt overlooked."
My father's expression hardened.
"So you signed a false statement?"
"I was trying to protect my daughter."
I laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
"And what am I?"
Vanessa looked at me.
I waited.
For one second, I wanted her to say it.
Daughter.
Family.
Anything.
But she said nothing.
My father slowly sat down.
He looked older than I'd ever seen him.
Then he whispered, "What have I allowed to happen?"
I wanted to run into his arms.
I wanted him to hold me like he used to.
But another part of me wanted to ask why it had taken a recording and a forged document for him to see what I'd been telling him for years.
Lorraine seemed to understand.
"Richard, remorse is a beginning. It isn't a solution."
He nodded slowly.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
"I want you and Brianna to stay somewhere else while we sort this out."
Vanessa stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"This is my home!"
Lorraine quietly lifted the trust agreement.
Vanessa's eyes flashed.
"You think a piece of paper gives this child the right to humiliate me?"
I stepped forward.
"No, Vanessa."
My voice was steadier than I expected.
"Your actions did that."
Brianna burst into tears.
"You've ruined everything!"
I looked at her.
"You're the one who ripped my dress."
She screamed, "Because you always get everything!"
I stared at her.
Everything?
I had lost my mother.
My peace.
My confidence.
And for years, the love of the father standing a few feet away.
But I said nothing.
Because I finally understood that Brianna wasn't angry about what I had.
She was angry that there was one thing she couldn't take.
My talent.
Vanessa grabbed her handbag.
"Fine. We're leaving."
She turned toward my father.
"But this isn't over."
Then she walked toward the stairs.
Brianna followed.
I thought the nightmare might finally be ending.
Until my father looked at the trust documents again.
His face suddenly changed.
"Lorraine," he said quietly.
"Yes?"
"There's something you need to know."
He looked at me.
Then he swallowed.
"Vanessa had me sign papers about this house last month."
Lorraine went still.
"What papers?"
My father looked sick.
"A refinancing agreement."
I stared at him.
Lorraine slowly stood.
"Richard, this house cannot be refinanced without the trustee's authorization."
He looked at the document.
Then at me.
His voice was barely audible.
May you like
"Vanessa told me she had already obtained it."
And from upstairs, we heard a bedroom door slam.
