Chapter 2
Vanessa stared at my phone as though it were a loaded weapon.
Her younger brother's name sat directly beneath Maya's.
Darius Coleman.
Thirty-eight years old.
A real estate broker.
And one of the last people I would ever have trusted with my daughter's inheritance.
I looked at Vanessa.
"Explain this."
She swallowed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I enlarged the document.
"Darius Coleman. That's your brother."
She folded her arms.
"So?"
"So why is he listed as someone holding an interest in this property?"
Vanessa glanced toward Maya.
Then she looked away.
"Maybe Grace knew him."
I stared at her.
"Grace died eleven years ago."
Vanessa said nothing.
"Darius didn't meet our family until three years ago."
Her lips tightened.
"Marcus, you're making accusations without understanding the paperwork."
I looked down at the document.
It was labeled as a recorded quitclaim deed.
The date was only six months old.
My heart began pounding.
Someone had attempted to transfer an interest in the house long after Grace's death.
I had never authorized such a transfer.
And Maya, who was still a minor, certainly hadn't.
I turned toward my daughter.
"Baby, have you ever signed papers about this house?"
She shook her head immediately.
"No, Dad."
"Has anyone asked you to?"
Her face changed.
She glanced at Vanessa.
I noticed.
"Maya?"
My daughter swallowed.
"Vanessa made me sign something last summer."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She looked terrified.
"She said it was for my school registration."
I stared at her.
"What kind of papers?"
"I don't know. There were several pages."
Vanessa laughed sharply.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous. I handle school paperwork all the time."
I looked at her.
"Where are those documents?"
She shrugged.
"Probably in my office."
"Then get them."
Her eyes narrowed.
"You're not ordering me around."
I took a slow breath.
Maya was still trembling.
I didn't want another shouting match in front of her.
But I needed answers.
"Vanessa, we'll discuss this through an attorney."
She laughed nervously.
"An attorney? Over a misunderstanding?"
I looked toward the scattered belongings outside.
"You threw my daughter out of her home."
"Because she disrespected me!"
"And now her name appears on a property document beside your brother's."
Vanessa opened her mouth.
I raised my hand.
"Enough."
She stopped.
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then she grabbed her handbag.
"I'm not staying here to be interrogated."
I stepped aside.
"You're free to leave."
She looked shocked.
"Marcus, this is my home too."
I kept my voice calm.
"Any legal rights you have will be handled properly. But Maya will not be threatened or thrown out again."
Vanessa's expression turned cold.
"You'll regret choosing her over me."
I looked at my daughter.
Maya stood near the staircase clutching her broken photograph.
I turned back toward Vanessa.
"No. I'll regret not protecting her sooner."
Vanessa stormed through the front door.
A moment later, her car started.
Then she was gone.
Maya sank onto the bottom stair.
I knelt beside her.
"Baby, look at me."
She raised her tear-streaked face.
"I'm sorry, Dad."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Why are you apologizing?"
She looked down.
"Because I made everything worse."
I took her hands.
"No, sweetheart. You didn't."
She began crying again.
"Vanessa said you'd be angry if I told you."
I froze.
"Told me what?"
My daughter shook her head.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, "She said you were tired of me."
I couldn't breathe.
"What?"
"She said you wanted to start a new family."
My heart shattered.
Maya continued.
"She said I reminded you too much of Mom."
I pulled her into my arms.
"Oh, baby."
She sobbed against my chest.
"She said if I kept making problems, you'd send me away."
I held her tighter.
"Never."
My voice cracked.
"Do you hear me? Never."
For eleven years, I'd raised Maya after losing Grace.
I had failed at many things.
I worked too much.
I missed school events.
I sometimes struggled to understand what a teenage girl needed from her father.
But I had never stopped loving her.
Not for one second.
And now I was discovering that my wife had spent months convincing her otherwise.
I helped Maya stand.
Then we went outside to gather her belongings.
I carried the suitcase.
She collected her clothes.
When she reached for the damaged photograph, I gently took it.
"We'll get a new frame."
She nodded.
"Okay."
Inside, I made her tea.
We sat at the kitchen island.
I wanted to ask a hundred questions.
Instead, I started with one.
"How long has Vanessa been treating you like this?"
Maya stared into her cup.
"A while."
"How long?"
She hesitated.
"Since Christmas."
My stomach tightened.
That was ten months earlier.
Ten months.
I had been traveling frequently for business.
Vanessa always assured me everything was fine.
She sent photographs of Maya smiling at dinner.
She told me they were getting closer.
I remembered praising Vanessa for being patient with my daughter.
Now I wondered how much of that had been staged.
"What happened at Christmas?"
Maya looked down.
"She told me I wasn't allowed to put Mom's ornaments on the tree."
I closed my eyes.
Grace had collected ornaments every year.
After she died, Maya and I continued the tradition.
I thought Vanessa simply preferred a different decorating style.
"She said Mom was dead and we needed to stop living in the past."
My hands tightened around the cup.
Maya continued.
"Then she started going through my things."
"What things?"
"My jewelry box. My desk. The files Mom left me."
I looked up.
"Files?"
She nodded.
"The blue folder in my closet."
My stomach dropped.
Grace had left Maya a folder containing letters, photographs, and copies of important family documents.
I'd kept it safe until Maya turned sixteen.
Then I gave it to her.
"Did Vanessa take it?"
Maya nodded slowly.
"She said she needed to check something."
I stood.
"Where is it now?"
"I don't know."
I went straight to Vanessa's home office.
The door was locked.
That was unusual.
I'd never known her to lock it.
I called my attorney, Charles Monroe.
He answered on the second ring.
"Marcus?"
"Charles, I need your help."
I explained the deed, the missing documents, and the attempted eviction.
Charles became serious.
"Don't alter anything. Send me the recorded document and the details you have."
I agreed.
He continued.
"We need to verify the chain of title and determine whether that deed was properly executed."
I looked toward Maya.
She sat alone at the kitchen island.
"Charles, my daughter may have signed something under false pretenses."
There was a pause.
"Then we need to examine every document involved."
I swallowed.
"Can Darius take her house?"
"Not simply because his name appears on a document. But we need to determine what was filed and whether it created a valid interest."
I nodded.
"Okay."
Before ending the call, Charles asked one more question.
"Marcus, did Grace establish a trust for Maya?"
"Yes."
"Who was the successor trustee?"
I thought carefully.
"Originally, me."
"And after you?"
I hesitated.
I hadn't reviewed those documents in years.
"I don't remember."
Charles sighed.
"Then that's the first thing we're going to find out."
That evening, Maya and I searched Grace's old files.
Near the bottom of a storage box, I found a sealed envelope.
It was addressed to me.
In Grace's handwriting.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter dated three months before her death.
The first sentence made my hands tremble.
Marcus, if anyone ever tries to separate Maya from the home we built, there is something about this property you must remember.
May you like
I stared at the page.
And for the first time, I realized my late wife might have anticipated a danger I had never seen coming.
