Chapter 7
The second will was a forgery.
At least, that was what the evidence increasingly suggested.
It was dated two months after my mother had become too sick to leave the hospital.
The signature looked like hers.
But the document contained details that didn't match her medical records.
It also named Denise as the person entitled to control certain assets.
There was one obvious problem.
Mom had never met Denise.
She died years before Dad married her.
I stared at the document.
Then I looked toward Renee.
"How could anyone believe this?"
She studied the page.
"Documents can appear convincing when people don't verify them carefully."
My stomach tightened.
"Who created it?"
"That's what investigators are trying to establish."
I nodded.
The copy had been supplied to Calvin as part of the financial paperwork.
He claimed Denise told him it was legitimate.
But his own records showed he had questioned some of the details.
One email contained a message from Calvin.
Are you sure Marcus knows about this?
Denise had replied.
He trusts me. Don't make this complicated.
I stared at those words.
My chest tightened.
Trust.
That was the word she kept using.
Dad trusted her.
I trusted Dad.
And Denise had used that trust to move money intended for my future.
Then Renee showed us another email.
It was from Denise to Calvin.
Dated six weeks before Dad tried to throw me out.
Malik is going to be eighteen soon. We need to settle the paperwork before he asks questions.
My hands began shaking.
It was there.
The reason she wanted me gone.
She needed time.
Time to hide the financial records.
Time to convince Dad I was dangerous.
Time to prevent me from learning about my mother's estate.
I looked toward Dad.
He stared at the email.
His eyes filled with tears.
"She planned it."
I nodded.
"Yes."
He covered his face.
I wanted to comfort him.
But I was the one who needed comfort too.
For years, I'd watched him defend Denise.
Now he was finally seeing the woman she had been when he wasn't home.
Renee leaned forward.
"Malik, the important thing is that we have evidence."
I nodded.
She continued.
"We can challenge the forged document and pursue the appropriate remedies."
I took a breath.
"Okay."
Then she looked toward Dad.
"Marcus, you need to understand your own role."
He nodded.
"I do."
"You signed paperwork without verifying what it authorized."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
"And your son was harmed."
Dad began crying.
"I know."
Renee's voice remained calm.
"Cooperation matters, but it doesn't erase responsibility."
He nodded again.
For the first time, I saw an adult holding Dad accountable without attacking him.
That mattered.
Because I didn't want Dad destroyed.
I wanted him to become someone I could trust again.
The following week, I visited my mother's grave.
I hadn't been there in months.
The cemetery was quiet.
I carried a small bouquet of white flowers.
Mom's headstone stood beneath a maple tree.
Angela Johnson.
Beloved wife and mother.
I knelt beside it.
"Hey, Mom."
My voice broke.
"I miss you."
I placed the flowers down.
Then I pulled her letter from my backpack.
"I found what you wrote."
Tears filled my eyes.
I unfolded it.
For a moment, I imagined her sitting beside me.
Her warm smile.
Her soft voice.
The way she used to tell me stories when thunderstorms frightened me.
I swallowed.
"Mom, I tried to be good."
My voice shook.
"I really did."
I wiped my face.
"But Dad almost threw me out."
Tears poured down my cheeks.
I looked toward the sky.
"I thought I lost him too."
For a long time, I cried.
Then I whispered, "I don't want to hate anybody."
My throat tightened.
"I just want to feel safe."
A breeze moved through the trees.
I closed my eyes.
I remembered Mom's voice.
You belong.
You always will.
I took a deep breath.
Then I stood.
For the first time in weeks, I felt a little stronger.
That afternoon, I received a message from my basketball coach.
Coach Daniels.
MALIK, THE SCHOLARSHIP COMMITTEE WANTS TO MEET YOU NEXT FRIDAY.
My heart jumped.
I read it twice.
Then I called him.
"Coach?"
He laughed.
"There's my point guard."
I smiled.
"Are they serious?"
"Very."
My heart pounded.
He continued.
"They've reviewed your academic record and game footage."
I covered my mouth.
"And?"
"They want to discuss a possible scholarship offer."
I began crying.
Coach became quiet.
"Malik?"
I laughed through tears.
"I'm here."
He chuckled.
"Good. You've earned this opportunity."
I swallowed.
"Thank you."
After ending the call, I stood in the school hallway smiling.
For months, Denise had told me I wouldn't succeed without Dad's money.
Now I had a chance to earn support through my own hard work.
I wanted to tell Mom.
I wanted to tell Aunt Rochelle.
And despite everything, I wanted to tell Dad.
When I got home, he was in the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway.
"Dad?"
He turned.
"Hey, son."
I held up my phone.
"Coach says the scholarship committee wants to meet me."
His face lit up.
"Malik!"
For a moment, he looked like the father I remembered.
The man who cheered at games.
The man who drove me to practice before sunrise.
The man who told me never to give up.
He stepped toward me.
Then stopped.
I knew why.
He wasn't sure whether I wanted a hug.
I took a breath.
Then stepped forward.
He wrapped his arms around me.
We held each other tightly.
"I'm proud of you," he whispered.
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since the suitcase incident, those words felt real.
But the legal investigation still had one more surprise waiting.
Because the following morning, Renee called with news.
The original estate attorney had found a document that Denise never mentioned.
A document concerning the house.
And according to Renee, it could protect my right to remain there even after I turned eighteen.
I stared at my phone.
May you like
Because Mom hadn't simply left me money.
She had left instructions intended to make sure nobody could ever force me out of my home.
