Chapter 4
Patricia arrived at Denise Walker's office carrying a cardboard file box.
She looked exhausted.
Dark circles surrounded her eyes, and she kept checking her phone as if she expected Raymond to call at any moment.
Denise greeted her professionally and explained that she could provide information but should consider independent legal advice before making any formal statement.
Patricia nodded.
"I understand."
She placed the box on the conference table.
"I worked for Carter Brothers Construction for eleven years. I handled invoices, payroll records, and correspondence with the company's outside accountants."
My mother sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
Patricia opened the box.
"After Daniel died, Raymond assumed full operational control. He told everyone he had purchased Daniel's interest through an agreement approved by the estate."
Denise examined a copy.
"Did you see the signed transfer?"
"No. I saw an electronic version, but I never handled the original."
She slid a document across the table.
"This is the version Raymond used."
I looked at the signatures.
One belonged to my father.
The date beneath it was six weeks after his death.
My stomach twisted.
"How could Dad sign something after he died?"
Patricia looked down.
"That's what I asked when I finally noticed."
My mother covered her mouth.
Denise examined the page carefully.
"A copied signature on a later-dated document is not automatically proof of forgery. But this discrepancy is significant. We need the original records, filing history, and a forensic review."
Patricia nodded.
"I understand."
She removed another folder.
"These are emails from Raymond's account instructing me to revise company ownership records. He called it an administrative correction."
I stared at the printed messages.
One dated three years after Dad's death mentioned transferring the remaining equity to Raymond personally.
Another referred to preparing a new set of documents before Malik became old enough to request financial disclosures.
My heart began pounding.
"He knew I would eventually find out."
Patricia looked at me.
"Yes."
My mother began crying quietly.
I reached for her hand.
This time, she didn't pull away.
Denise organized the records.
"We need to preserve these documents properly. Patricia, do you still have access to the original systems?"
"For now."
"Don't access anything outside your authorized duties, and don't alter or delete records. We can pursue lawful requests for the relevant material."
Patricia nodded.
"I won't."
Then Denise looked at me.
"Malik, I want you to understand something. These documents raise serious concerns, but we need a careful investigation before drawing final conclusions."
I appreciated her honesty.
I didn't want a dramatic accusation that could collapse under scrutiny.
I wanted the truth.
And I wanted whatever my father had left me to be protected.
When the meeting ended, Patricia hesitated near the door.
"There's something personal I need to tell you."
I looked at her.
"What?"
"Your father was the reason I got my first real job."
I waited.
"He interviewed me when I was twenty-six. I had a young daughter, no college degree, and almost no experience. He gave me a chance."
Her voice cracked.
"He told me that a person's circumstances shouldn't determine their worth."
I swallowed.
That sounded like Dad.
"After he died, I told myself staying with the company was a way of honoring him."
She looked at the box.
"But somewhere along the way, I stopped asking questions."
My mother stood.
"Thank you for coming forward."
Patricia nodded.
"I should have done it sooner."
After she left, Denise explained our options.
She could formally notify the trust administrator, request company records, and seek court protection if there was evidence that assets were at risk.
My mother authorized her to proceed with every step she could lawfully take on our behalf.
I signed the documents concerning my interests.
For the first time, my name appeared on paperwork I had chosen to sign with full understanding.
It felt strangely powerful.
That evening, I returned home and found Raymond waiting beside his car across the street.
My mother was still working a late hospital shift.
I considered driving past him.
Instead, I parked in our driveway and stayed inside my locked car.
Raymond approached my window.
I lowered it only a few inches.
"We need to talk," he said.
"No, we don't."
His face tightened.
"Malik, you are letting strangers turn you against your family."
I stared at him.
"You tried to evict me from a house I own."
"I was trying to make you responsible."
"By lying about the ownership?"
He looked away.
"Things are more complicated than you understand."
"Then explain them to Denise Walker."
His head snapped toward me.
"You hired a lawyer?"
I said nothing.
Raymond laughed bitterly.
"Your mother always was easy to manipulate."
I felt anger surge through me.
"Don't talk about her like that."
"I'm the one who kept this family afloat after your father died."
"Then the records should prove it."
He leaned closer.
"You think your father was some kind of saint?"
My stomach tightened.
"Don't."
"You don't know what happened before he died."
I stared at him.
"Then tell me."
Raymond's expression changed.
For a moment, he looked almost frightened.
Then he stepped backward.
"Be careful, Malik. You might not like what you discover."
He returned to his car and drove away.
I sat in silence.
His words should have frightened me.
Instead, they made me more determined.
I went into the house and locked the door.
Then I called my mother.
"Raymond was here."
Her voice sharpened.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Did he threaten you?"
"He tried to scare me."
I looked toward my father's unfinished basketball hoop through the kitchen window.
"But I'm done being scared."
My mother was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, "So am I."
We ended the call.
I took the operating agreement from the kitchen drawer and studied my father's signature.
Daniel Carter.
Sixty-percent owner.
Father.
Provider.
Protector.
Raymond had spent years using that man's memory to control us.
May you like
Now his story was beginning to unravel.
And I had a feeling the worst part was still waiting to be discovered.
