Chapter 6
I showed Dad the message.
He read it twice.
Then he looked at Grandma.
"Mom, did you tell Claire about the storage unit?"
Grandma shook her head.
"No."
Dad stared at the address.
"Then how does she know?"
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Maybe Daniel told her."
Dad nodded slowly.
"Maybe."
He immediately called Angela.
She listened carefully.
Then she said something that made my father go silent.
"Do not go there alone."
Dad looked at me.
"We won't."
Angela continued.
"If the unit contains records relevant to the dispute, we should access it lawfully and preserve anything important."
Grandma nodded.
"I have the rental documents."
"Good. Let's verify who currently has access."
The next morning, we met Angela at the storage facility.
A police officer accompanied us because of the recent threats.
The building was quiet.
Rows of metal doors lined a long hallway.
Grandma walked slowly beside me.
Her cane tapped against the concrete floor.
I held her arm.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled.
"Just thinking about your grandfather."
I squeezed her hand.
"He'd be proud of you."
Grandma laughed softly.
"Oh, baby. He'd probably tell me I should've opened this place years ago."
We reached the unit.
Number 214.
The manager checked the paperwork.
Then he unlocked the outer access gate.
Grandma used the key from her metal box.
The unit door lifted with a loud metallic rattle.
Inside were cardboard boxes.
An old desk.
Two filing cabinets.
And a framed photograph of Grandpa standing outside his first business.
I felt tears rise.
It smelled like paper and old wood.
Like his office used to smell.
Dad stood motionless.
"Wow."
Grandma touched the photograph.
"He loved that picture."
I walked toward the filing cabinets.
Angela asked everyone to avoid moving documents until their contents could be inventoried.
The police officer photographed the room.
Then we began examining the boxes carefully.
Most contained ordinary family belongings.
Old tax returns.
Business records.
Photographs.
Awards.
Then Angela opened a folder labeled TRUST — ORIGINALS.
She became very still.
"Marcus."
Dad approached.
"What?"
"These are important."
Inside were signed copies of the original trust agreement.
Investment statements.
Correspondence with Daniel.
And a handwritten list of concerns Grandpa had documented.
Angela examined the pages.
Then she looked at Grandma.
"Your husband kept remarkably detailed records."
Grandma smiled through tears.
"He always did."
Dad leaned closer.
"What do they show?"
Angela pointed to several entries.
"They may help establish the original terms of the trust and identify changes made later."
I felt hope rise.
"Can they prove the signature was forged?"
"Not by themselves. But they are valuable evidence."
I nodded.
For the first time, it felt like Grandpa was helping us fight back.
Then Dad found something else.
A small digital recorder.
It was sitting inside a desk drawer.
He held it up.
"Mom, did Dad use this?"
Grandma nodded.
"Yes. He recorded business notes because his hands sometimes hurt."
Angela examined it.
"We should preserve this carefully."
Dad handed it to the officer.
But before it was placed into an evidence bag, the officer noted the device's condition and asked whether anyone knew its contents.
Grandma shook her head.
"I don't."
I stared at the recorder.
What if Grandpa had recorded his concerns?
What if he'd spoken directly about Daniel?
The thought made my heart race.
Angela arranged for the device to be examined without altering the original recordings.
Then we continued documenting the unit.
Near the back wall, I noticed a large envelope wedged behind the desk.
I pointed toward it.
"What's that?"
The officer photographed it before Angela carefully removed it.
The envelope was addressed to Grandma.
EVELYN — PRIVATE.
Grandma took a shaky breath.
She opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Grandpa stood beside Daniel Price.
They were outside a restaurant.
Another man stood between them.
He was older, wearing a dark suit.
I didn't recognize him.
Dad leaned closer.
"Who is that?"
Grandma's expression changed.
"Samuel Carter."
Dad frowned.
"Who?"
"Your father's former business partner."
Dad stared at her.
"I thought they stopped working together years ago."
"They did."
I looked at the photograph.
"Why would Grandpa keep this?"
Grandma turned it over.
On the back were five words.
DON'T TRUST SAMUEL OR DANIEL.
My skin prickled.
Dad looked at Angela.
"This is getting bigger."
She nodded.
"Possibly. But we need to verify the context."
We finished documenting the unit and returned home.
That evening, Angela called.
She'd received preliminary information from the trust administrator.
The disputed assignment had been submitted through Daniel's office.
A notary's name appeared on the document.
And the notary had reported concerns about the transaction.
I sat beside Dad while he listened.
"What concerns?" he asked.
Angela explained that the notary's official records did not match the date and circumstances described in the submitted declaration.
My heart raced.
"So the document might be fake?"
Angela answered carefully.
"There are serious questions about its authenticity."
Dad exhaled.
"Good."
"But there's more."
I stiffened.
Angela continued.
"The notary says someone contacted her afterward, asking her to confirm a meeting that may never have occurred."
Dad frowned.
"Who?"
"She identified Daniel Price."
I covered my mouth.
Dad stood.
"Then we have him."
"Not yet," Angela said. "But this is significant evidence."
After the call, Dad looked at me.
"We're getting closer."
I nodded.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something.
Why had Daniel been so desperate?
Why had he attacked Mom?
Why had he threatened me?
And why was Samuel Carter involved?
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I went downstairs for water.
Grandma was sitting at the kitchen island.
The damaged journal lay inside its protective box.
She was looking at it quietly.
I sat beside her.
"Can't sleep?"
She smiled sadly.
"Neither can you."
I shook my head.
Grandma touched the box.
"Your grandfather wrote in that journal almost every day."
"I know."
"He believed family stories mattered."
I looked at the stained pages.
"Do you think it can be repaired?"
She nodded slowly.
"The conservator says some pages may be saved."
I smiled.
"Good."
Grandma looked at me.
"Maya, whatever happens, don't let this make you bitter."
I swallowed.
"That's hard."
"I know."
I stared at the journal.
"I don't know if I can forgive Mom."
Grandma squeezed my hand.
"You don't have to decide that tonight."
I looked at her.
"Do you forgive her?"
Grandma was quiet for a long time.
Then she whispered, "I'm still trying."
Her honesty comforted me.
We sat together until the clock struck midnight.
Then Dad's phone rang upstairs.
A moment later, I heard his footsteps.
He rushed into the kitchen.
His face was pale.
"Mom. Maya."
I stood.
"What happened?"
Dad held up his phone.
"It's Angela."
My heart began pounding.
"What's wrong?"
He looked at Grandma.
"They examined the digital recorder."
I gripped the counter.
"And?"
Dad swallowed.
"There's a recording of Grandpa speaking to Daniel."
Grandma covered her mouth.
Dad's voice shook.
"And Grandpa confronted him about missing money."
I felt tears rise.
"Did Daniel admit anything?"
Dad nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Then he looked directly at me.
"But that's not the worst part."
I froze.
"What is?"
Dad's eyes filled with disbelief.
"Grandpa said someone inside our family was helping Daniel."
May you like
The kitchen went silent.
And I knew exactly who Dad was afraid he meant.
