Chapter 5 - The Building Nobody Told Me About
The next morning, Dad drove me and Grandma to Decatur.
Patricia had advised him to gather public property information before approaching anyone connected to the building.
But I wanted to see it.
I wanted to stand in front of something my mother had once owned.
Something she had hoped would help me someday.
We stopped on a quiet street lined with small shops.
Across from a bakery stood a two-story brick building.
The windows were tall.
The front door was painted dark green.
A sign above the entrance read:
PRICE DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
I stared.
"Price?"
Dad's face tightened.
Douglas Price.
The accountant who had handled my mother's estate.
Grandma leaned forward.
"This used to be Rachel's building."
I looked at her.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Her grandmother ran a sewing shop downstairs."
I studied the windows.
The second floor had been renovated into offices.
A black luxury car stood outside.
I recognized it immediately.
Uncle Darren's SUV.
My stomach dropped.
"Dad."
He followed my gaze.
His expression changed.
"Stay in the car."
But before he could move, Darren stepped out of the building.
He wore a gray designer suit.
He was talking on his phone.
Then he saw our car.
His smile disappeared.
Dad opened the driver's door.
Grandma touched his arm.
"Marcus, don't confront him alone."
Dad stopped.
He looked at Darren.
Then slowly closed the door.
"You're right."
He picked up his phone.
Called Patricia.
And told her what we had found.
She instructed us to document the location and avoid an argument.
I watched Darren through the windshield.
He stood completely still.
Then hurried back inside.
My heart pounded.
"He knows."
Dad nodded.
"He knows we're looking."
We drove away.
But the image stayed with me.
My mother's building.
Vanessa's brother walking out of it.
And the company sign bearing the name of the accountant who had handled her estate.
That afternoon, Patricia called us to her office.
She had obtained preliminary property records.
The building had been transferred several years earlier.
The documents listed Douglas Price as the person managing the transaction.
Later, the property ended up under a company controlled by Darren.
Dad stared at the papers.
"How?"
Patricia shook her head.
"We need the underlying agreements and estate records."
Grandma looked furious.
"Rachel wanted that building protected for Maya."
Patricia nodded.
"If those instructions were legally implemented, the transfers may be challengeable."
I stared at the building photograph.
"Was it worth a lot?"
Patricia hesitated.
"The current estimated market value is substantial."
"How much?"
She looked at Dad.
Then back at me.
"Possibly more than a million dollars."
My breath caught.
A million dollars.
I couldn't understand it.
I thought of the nights I wore shoes with holes.
The school trips Vanessa said we couldn't afford.
The birthday money Grandma secretly slipped into my pocket.
My mother had tried to leave me security.
And someone might have taken it.
Dad looked devastated.
"I should've checked."
Grandma touched his hand.
"Marcus, you trusted professionals."
He shook his head.
"I trusted the wrong people."
Patricia leaned forward.
"Blame won't recover the assets. Evidence might."
I looked at her.
"Then let's get evidence."
She smiled gently.
"That's exactly what we're doing."
Over the next week, Dad worked with Patricia and a forensic accountant.
They reviewed old estate documents.
Bank records.
Property filings.
Emails.
And authorization forms.
I wasn't included in every conversation.
But Dad stopped hiding important things from me.
He explained what he could.
When he didn't know, he said so.
That mattered.
For years, Vanessa had answered every question with anger.
Now I was learning that honest adults sometimes said, "I don't know yet."
One evening, Caleb called me.
I hadn't heard his voice in several days.
I answered immediately.
"Caleb?"
He sounded frightened.
"Maya."
My stomach tightened.
"What's wrong?"
He whispered, "Mom's really mad."
I sat on my bed.
"At you?"
"At everybody."
I looked toward my door.
"Where are you?"
"At Uncle Darren's house."
My heart stopped.
"Are you okay?"
He hesitated.
"Yeah."
But his voice shook.
Then he whispered, "I found something."
I sat upright.
"What?"
"Your pink jewelry box."
My throat tightened.
The box Vanessa had taken from my room.
The one containing my mother's necklace and birthday cards.
"Where?"
"In a closet."
I closed my eyes.
"Caleb, don't touch anything."
He swallowed.
"I already did."
My heart pounded.
"What happened?"
"I opened it."
I waited.
"There's a little key inside."
I frowned.
"A key?"
"Mom said it was worthless."
I stared at the wall.
"What does it look like?"
"Small. Silver. It has a number."
My stomach tightened.
"What number?"
He whispered, "Twenty-seven."
I didn't know what that meant.
Then Caleb continued.
"There's also a picture of your mom."
My breath caught.
He sounded frightened.
"Maya, she's standing in front of that building Dad went to."
I sat completely still.
"What?"
Caleb lowered his voice.
"And there's writing on the back."
My hands shook.
"What does it say?"
He paused.
Then read slowly.
For Maya, when she's ready to know what we built.
I felt tears gathering.
My mother.
The building.
The key.
Everything seemed connected.
"Caleb, can you send me a picture?"
He hesitated.
"Mom checks my phone."
I swallowed.
"Then don't risk it."
He was quiet.
Then whispered, "Maya?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you mad at me?"
My heart broke.
"No."
"I knew Mom was being mean."
I looked down.
He began crying.
"I should've told Dad sooner."
I wiped my eyes.
"Caleb, you're eight."
He sniffled.
"But I didn't want you to leave."
I closed my eyes.
"Neither did I."
We stayed on the phone for another minute.
Then I told him to put the box back and speak to a safe adult if he felt frightened.
After we hung up, I ran downstairs.
Dad was in the kitchen.
I told him everything.
His expression changed.
"A silver key?"
I nodded.
"With twenty-seven on it."
Grandma entered the room.
She stopped when she heard the number.
"Twenty-seven?"
I turned.
"Grandma?"
Her eyes widened.
"Oh, my goodness."
Dad frowned.
"Mom, what is it?"
She leaned against the counter.
"Rachel had a safe-deposit box."
My heart began pounding.
"At a bank?"
Grandma nodded.
"Box twenty-seven."
Dad stared.
"Why didn't we know?"
Grandma's voice shook.
"She opened it shortly before her surgery."
I looked at her.
"What did she put inside?"
Grandma covered her mouth.
"I don't know."
May you like
Then she whispered something that made my heart stop.
"But Rachel told me if anything ever happened to her, that box contained the one thing nobody could take away from Maya."
