Chapter 6
I stared at the wall.
The same day as my engagement party.
Someone had submitted paperwork bearing my name while I was standing in a ballroom wearing a white dress.
My cheek had still been burning from my mother's slap.
And apparently, behind the scenes, another attempt was being made to control my inheritance.
"Samuel," I whispered, "how is that possible?"
"We're investigating the document's origin."
"Was it filed before or after the party?"
"The electronic submission occurred earlier that afternoon."
I closed my eyes.
Mom had demanded the money at the celebration.
But she had already prepared a document claiming authority over it.
The confrontation hadn't been spontaneous.
It was part of a plan.
I looked at Marcus.
He saw my expression.
"What happened?"
I explained.
His jaw tightened.
Then he gently took the phone.
"Mr. Brooks, this is Marcus Bennett. What can we do to protect Nia?"
Samuel explained that the estate's attorney would challenge the document and notify relevant financial institutions.
He also recommended preserving evidence and reporting suspected forgery through appropriate channels.
Marcus listened carefully.
Then he handed the phone back.
I thanked Samuel.
After the call, I sat in silence.
My mother had slapped me because I refused to give her money.
But she had also tried to create the appearance that I had already agreed.
I felt sick.
Tasha entered the living room.
"What happened?"
I told her.
Her face drained of color.
"Mom wouldn't."
I looked at her.
"Tasha…"
She covered her mouth.
Then she whispered, "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting what she's capable of."
I reached for her hand.
"We're learning."
That afternoon, Samuel sent copies of the disputed documents.
My supposed signature appeared at the bottom.
It looked similar to mine.
But the shape of the final letter was wrong.
I had developed a distinctive loop in my signature during college.
The forged version didn't include it.
There were other inconsistencies.
The document listed an address I hadn't used in years.
And the email contact belonged to an account I didn't recognize.
Samuel arranged for the records to be preserved.
An independent document examiner would review the signatures.
The bank was notified that the purported authorization was disputed.
The inheritance funds remained protected while the matter was investigated.
I wanted to feel relieved.
Instead, I felt betrayed all over again.
I remembered my childhood birthday parties.
Mom smiling for photographs.
Mom telling guests how proud she was of both daughters.
Mom hugging me only after everyone else had left.
For years, I had wondered whether I was imagining the distance between us.
Now I understood that affection could be used as a performance.
I wasn't angry because my mother loved Tasha.
I was angry because she used love as a reward and rejection as punishment.
That evening, Marcus found me sitting on the bedroom floor.
I was holding an old photograph of Grandpa.
He sat beside me.
"Tell me about him."
I smiled through my tears.
"He used to take me fishing."
Marcus laughed softly.
"You hate fishing."
"I know."
I looked at the photograph.
"But he said it wasn't about catching fish. It was about learning patience."
Marcus smiled.
"Sounds like a wise man."
I nodded.
"He always brought two sandwiches. One for him and one for me."
"What kind?"
"Peanut butter and banana."
Marcus made a face.
I laughed.
"It's actually good."
"I'll take your word for it."
For a moment, the tension eased.
Then I began crying again.
"I miss him."
Marcus pulled me close.
"I know."
I pressed my face against his shoulder.
"He knew Mom was hurting me. He tried to protect me. But I never understood."
Marcus kissed my forehead.
"You understand now."
I nodded.
"And he gave me something I need to protect."
"Then we will."
The next morning, an investigator contacted Samuel.
The disputed documents had been referred for examination.
The financial transfers involving Victor Lane were also under review.
But something unexpected happened that afternoon.
Victor contacted Tasha directly.
She showed me the message.
We need to talk. Your mother hasn't told you everything.
My stomach tightened.
I advised her to forward it to her attorney.
She did.
Victor sent another message.
Diane is going to blame you for the paperwork.
Tasha began trembling.
I held her hand.
"We're not responding without legal advice."
She nodded.
Then a third message arrived.
I have copies of the original records. Your grandfather knew exactly what happened.
I stared at the screen.
Tasha looked at me.
"What does that mean?"
I shook my head.
"I don't know."
Samuel arranged for the message to be preserved and provided to investigators.
Two days later, Victor's attorney contacted the authorities.
Victor wanted to cooperate.
According to the information he offered, Diane had asked him to prepare documents that would allow her to redirect funds.
He claimed she told him the daughters had agreed.
But he also admitted he had reason to doubt that claim.
The investigators reviewed his records.
Some messages referred to Tasha's financial support.
Others discussed the disputed signature.
Then one email changed everything.
Diane had written:
Nia will never voluntarily give me the money. We need another way.
I read the sentence three times.
My own mother had planned to take my inheritance without my consent.
Tasha began crying.
"I can't believe this."
I looked at her.
"Believe the evidence."
She nodded.
Then she reached for my hand.
For the first time, we stood together against the person who had spent years dividing us.
But the worst revelation came the following morning.
Samuel called with a new discovery.
"Nia, your grandfather's accountant found another account."
My heart raced.
"What account?"
"A savings account established for both daughters when you were children."
I stopped breathing.
"Both of us?"
"Yes."
Then he added something that made my knees weaken.
"Your father contributed to it before he died."
I sat down.
"How much?"
Samuel hesitated.
"The original records show substantial deposits. But most of the funds were withdrawn years later."
My throat tightened.
"By whom?"
May you like
He took a breath.
"Your mother."
