Chapter 4
Evelyn advised me to confirm my authority to access the storage unit before going.
The contract listed me as a renter, but my signature was not mine. The facility agreed to preserve the access records and let me collect information through the legal process.
It took several days.
Those days were filled with calls, work I barely finished, and questions from Ava I didn’t know how to answer without frightening her.
“Is Mommy sleeping alone?” she asked one night.
“I think so.”
“Can we bring her my bear?”
“You can ask her on your call.”
Nia sounded gentle with Ava on the phone. After Ava hung up, I wanted to be glad.
Then I looked at another false signature and felt angry all over again.
The storage manager eventually allowed a supervised inspection with the documentation Evelyn provided.
Nia had been informed. She did not come.
Inside were furniture, boxes of clothing, framed prints, and sealed cartons of kitchenware.
A lease brochure lay on a small desk.
It pictured a waterfront condominium.
I picked it up carefully.
Andre and Nia had been preparing another home.
A home I had helped pay for without knowing.
Near the back, I found a box labeled AVA.
It contained clothes in the next size up, a small night-light, and copies of her school records.
My hands began to shake.
I called Evelyn from the doorway.
“Does this mean she planned to take Ava?”
“It means she prepared belongings for her,” she said. “We should ask for a clear explanation without assuming the legal implications.”
I knew she was right.
I still had to sit down.
There were no photographs of Andre with Ava. No evidence he had met her beyond the renovation days.
That mattered. I wrote it down because I did not want my fear to become a fact.
Later, Nia met me at Evelyn’s office.
“What was the condo for?” I asked.
She sat with her hands clasped.
“I thought about leaving.”
“With Andre?”
“Yes.”
“And you planned to bring Ava.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She is ours. You were going to tell me after you moved?”
“I hadn’t decided.”
I looked at her.
“You bought her clothes.”
“I was afraid to start the conversation.”
“Were you afraid of me?”
Nia hesitated.
“I was afraid of losing the life we had. I was afraid you would hate me.”
“You could have told me you wanted to leave. You chose to borrow money under my name instead.”
She lowered her head.
“The investment was supposed to make enough for me to leave without needing anything from you.”
“You needed my signature. You needed my mother’s property.”
“I know.”
I asked where the money was.
Nia said Andre persuaded her that a small development project would be completed quickly. She moved part of the borrowed funds into a reserve account for the condo and used other amounts to pay project costs.
“The project failed,” she said.
“How much did you keep?”
She gave a figure.
I asked Evelyn to write it down.
Nia provided account access through her attorney. It was the first useful step she had taken.
But there was another problem.
The lender’s file contained an authorization supposedly signed by Mom and witnessed by Andre.
Mom had never signed it.
Andre had submitted it with a copy of her identification.
I thought of Nia carrying Mom’s documents to the pharmacy and insurance office during her recovery.
Trust had given her access.
I called Mom when the meeting ended.
She listened, then said, “Let the investigators examine it. I’ll provide every genuine signature they need.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“No. But I can.”
I went to her house and found Ava helping stir soup.
Mom handed me a spoon.
“Sit down. You need food before another crisis.”
I ate.
Ava told me about a girl at school who had two houses.
“Do I have two houses now?”
“Right now, you have Grandma’s while we work things out.”
“Can I keep my room at ours?”
“Yes.”
I did not want my daughter to feel displaced from her own life.
Evelyn helped arrange a temporary parenting schedule. Nia and I would communicate about Ava through a written channel. We would avoid adult disputes during visits and tell each other where Ava was staying.
I returned to our house to check it before deciding where we would live.
The locks had been changed with Nia informed. Andre no longer had a working key.
The sofa looked exactly as it had the afternoon I came home.
I stood in front of it.
I could not imagine resting there again.
Upstairs, Ava’s room still smelled faintly of the lotion she used after baths. Her books were lined up beneath the window.
I realized the house did not belong only to my marriage.
It belonged to her childhood too.
That evening, I told Nia I wanted Ava to spend time in her own room again under a clear schedule.
Nia agreed.
Then she added, “Andre says the lender has more than one guarantee.”
I froze.
“How many?”
May you like
“I don’t know.”
I sent the message to Evelyn and waited for the records that could tell us how much more had been done in my name.
