Chapter 4
I called Camille before I even left Maya's bedroom.
My hands were shaking.
“Marcus?”
“I found another document.”
“What kind?”
“A purported authorization involving Nicole's trust.”
Camille became quiet.
“Does it contain your signature?”
“Yes.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
She took a breath.
“Send me a photograph for review, then preserve the original.”
I looked at Maya.
She was sitting beside me, clutching her mother's picture.
“Camille, I think Denise has been trying to access my daughter's inheritance.”
“We need to verify the documents and financial records before drawing conclusions.”
“I understand.”
“But this is serious, Marcus.”
I swallowed.
“I know.”
Camille instructed me to contact the trust administrator through verified contact information.
She also suggested reviewing who had access to household financial files.
I agreed.
Then I looked back at Maya.
“Sweetheart, where did you find this?”
She hesitated.
“Denise left it on the kitchen counter.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
I frowned.
“Why did you take it?”
Maya's eyes filled.
“Because I saw Mom's name.”
My throat tightened.
Nicole's name.
Even after ten years, my daughter still recognized anything connected to her mother.
“I didn't understand most of it,” Maya whispered.
“But I knew Denise wasn't supposed to be changing Mom's things.”
I nodded.
“You were right to be concerned.”
She looked down.
“I was scared she'd find out I took it.”
I gently squeezed her hand.
“You're safe telling me now.”
For the rest of the evening, I stayed close to the children.
Denise had left after I asked her to arrange somewhere else to stay temporarily.
She'd called three times.
I hadn't answered.
Instead, I sent a brief message through Camille, asking that further discussions about the disputed property and financial documents go through counsel.
I didn't want another screaming match.
I wanted facts.
But the house felt strange without Denise.
Not because I missed her.
Because I finally noticed how tense everyone had been around her.
Jordan asked permission before opening the refrigerator.
Maya apologized when she accidentally knocked over a glass.
Both teenagers watched my face whenever something went wrong.
I began realizing how much fear had become part of our daily routine.
That night, I ordered pizza.
We sat in the living room.
Jordan chose a comedy.
Maya complained that he'd picked the worst movie ever made.
For a moment, they sounded like ordinary teenagers again.
I smiled.
Then Maya caught me watching.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“Dad.”
I laughed.
“I'm just glad you're both here.”
Jordan looked down.
Maya's expression softened.
Later, after she went upstairs, Jordan stayed behind.
He sat on the edge of the sofa.
“Marcus?”
I turned.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to divorce Mom?”
The question landed heavily.
I didn't want to lie.
But I wasn't ready to make promises about a legal process I hadn't begun.
“I need to understand everything that's happened first.”
He nodded.
Then whispered, “She'll blame me.”
I sat beside him.
“Why?”
“Because I told you about the folder.”
I looked at his frightened face.
“Jordan, telling the truth isn't betrayal.”
He swallowed.
“She always says family should protect each other.”
I took a breath.
“Family should protect each other from harm.”
He looked up.
“That doesn't mean covering up something wrong.”
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he whispered, “I wish she understood that.”
The following morning, I visited the bank.
Camille had arranged a meeting with the trust administrator, Mr. Harrison.
He was an older man who'd worked with Nicole's estate attorney.
When he saw me, he smiled sadly.
“Marcus, it's been a long time.”
I shook his hand.
“Too long.”
We sat in a private conference room.
Camille joined us.
Mr. Harrison opened the account records.
“Nicole established this trust to benefit Maya.”
I nodded.
“She wanted her education and future protected.”
“Exactly.”
He explained that the trust held investment accounts and proceeds from the sale of Nicole's design firm's remaining assets.
It also retained an interest in a rental property.
The current value was substantial.
More than I'd realized.
But what frightened me wasn't the amount.
It was a series of recent inquiries.
Someone had repeatedly contacted the institution requesting information about early distributions.
Someone had attempted to change the mailing address.
And someone had submitted documents claiming I wanted to restructure the trust.
I stared at the records.
“Who sent these?”
Mr. Harrison turned the page.
“Several came from Denise Williams Holdings.”
My stomach tightened.
Camille leaned forward.
“Were any distributions approved?”
“No.”
I exhaled.
“The requests didn't satisfy the trust's requirements.”
Relief washed through me.
Then Mr. Harrison added something unexpected.
“However, we did receive a request to verify a property transaction.”
I frowned.
“What property?”
“The rental house associated with Nicole's estate.”
I stared at him.
“That property isn't supposed to be sold.”
He nodded.
“We identified inconsistencies and did not approve any transfer.”
Camille asked to review the supporting documents.
Mr. Harrison showed us a preliminary sales agreement.
The proposed buyer was a limited-liability company.
The registered contact was a woman named Patricia Bell.
I frowned.
“I don't know her.”
Camille looked at the address.
Then her expression changed.
“Marcus, this is interesting.”
“What?”
“The company's registered address matches one used by Denise's real-estate business.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Mr. Harrison.
“Was she trying to sell Nicole's property to herself?”
Camille spoke carefully.
“We can't conclude that yet. But the ownership connections need investigation.”
I leaned back.
The room felt colder.
A car.
A trust.
A house.
My daughter's future.
How much had Denise planned to take?
When I returned home, Maya was waiting near the stairs.
She looked nervous.
“Dad?”
I smiled gently.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
She approached.
“Did you find out about Mom's money?”
I nodded.
“It's protected.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She hugged me.
“Thank you.”
I held her.
Then she whispered, “There's something else.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
She reached into her backpack.
Pulled out her turquoise phone.
And opened a voice message.
It was from Denise.
Her voice filled the hallway.
“If Marcus finds out about the account, Jordan loses everything. And it'll be your fault.”
Maya looked at me with tears in her eyes.
Then another message played.
“Remember what I told you about your mother's house. You don't want your father knowing what happened there.”
I froze.
Nicole's house.
I stared at my daughter.
“What happened there?”
Maya began shaking.
“Dad…”
I took her hand.
“Sweetheart, tell me.”
She swallowed.
“Denise took me there last month.”
My heart pounded.
“Why?”
Maya looked terrified.
“She made me sign something in front of a man I didn't know.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
May you like
Then she whispered the words that made everything worse.
“And she told him I was eighteen.”
