Chapter 3
I had expected anger.
I had expected denial.
But I hadn't expected my daughter-in-law to admit that her attorney knew about my husband's private inheritance documents.
Marcus stared at Nia.
“What did you just say?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“You said Daniel told you the papers were destroyed.”
“I was confused.”
I stood.
“Nia, sit down.”
She laughed nervously.
“You can't order me around.”
“No,” I said. “But you can explain why your attorney knew about documents that were never shared with you.”
Marcus moved closer.
“Nia, answer her.”
She looked at him.
“Are you seriously taking her side?”
“I'm asking a question.”
“Your mother is trying to humiliate me!”
I felt a familiar pain in my chest.
Not physical pain.
Something deeper.
I had watched this woman turn every disagreement into an accusation.
I had watched Marcus apologize when he hadn't done anything wrong.
I had watched him become quieter with every passing year.
Now I wondered how much he had been hiding.
“Marcus,” I said, “call Patricia.”
Nia's eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Because I believe we need an independent attorney present.”
Marcus took out his phone.
Nia grabbed his wrist.
“Don't.”
He looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
She stared at him.
For a moment, I saw something change in my son.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't threatening.
He was simply refusing to be controlled.
Nia slowly released him.
Marcus called Patricia.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived.
Patricia Monroe was fifty-six years old, with short natural curls and the kind of calm expression that made people choose their words carefully.
She had represented Richard and me for years.
After Richard died, she continued advising me and Ruth.
When I told her about the property-transfer documents, she asked to see them.
She examined the pages.
Then she looked at Marcus.
“Who prepared these?”
“Nia's attorney.”
Patricia frowned.
“Daniel Whitmore?”
I nodded.
Her expression became serious.
“Interesting.”
Nia crossed her arms.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
Patricia turned the first page around.
“This document identifies Marcus as the sole beneficial owner of the property.”
Marcus looked confused.
“But I'm not.”
“Correct.”
Patricia pointed to another section.
“It also contains a declaration that Evelyn has no continuing occupancy rights.”
I felt my blood turn cold.
Marcus looked at me.
“Mom?”
“I never agreed to that.”
Patricia nodded.
“And you couldn't honestly make that declaration.”
Nia stepped forward.
“It's standard paperwork!”
“No,” Patricia said calmly. “It is a material representation about ownership.”
She turned another page.
“There's something else.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
“The agreement includes an acknowledgment that all current occupants have voluntarily surrendered possession.”
Marcus stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the document is designed to make the buyer believe nobody has a right to remain in the house.”
I looked at Nia.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
“You weren't simply trying to sell the house,” I whispered.
Patricia continued.
“You were also trying to eliminate Evelyn's legal right to live here.”
Marcus stepped back.
“Nia, did you know?”
She looked furious.
“Of course not!”
Patricia studied her.
“Then why did you bring an agreement containing statements you knew were false?”
Nia opened her mouth.
No words came out.
Marcus sat down heavily.
I wanted to comfort him.
But I knew he needed to face what was happening.
For too long, I had protected him from difficult truths.
I wasn't going to do it again.
Patricia gathered the papers.
“I strongly recommend that nobody sign anything. We should preserve these originals and investigate how the attorney obtained the underlying information.”
Nia reached for the documents.
“They're mine.”
Patricia looked at her.
“You can have a copy. Evelyn has a legitimate reason to preserve the papers presented for her signature.”
Nia turned toward Marcus.
“Are you going to let them treat me like a criminal?”
Marcus looked exhausted.
“Nia, please stop.”
She stared at him.
Then grabbed her handbag.
“Fine. I'm leaving.”
She stormed toward the front door.
I watched her go.
Part of me wanted to call her back.
Not because I trusted her.
Because I knew what would happen after she left.
Marcus would feel guilty.
He would tell himself he had failed as a husband.
And eventually, he might convince himself to apologize for asking reasonable questions.
I had seen that pattern before.
But this time, something was different.
Marcus didn't follow her.
He remained at the table.
Staring at his father's letter.
After several minutes, he spoke.
“Mom, did Dad really leave me the business?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“And the investments?”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Then why did Nia tell me the house was the only valuable asset left?”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“She said Dad's business interest had been liquidated. That the investment accounts were almost empty.”
I slowly sat down.
“Marcus, that's not true.”
He looked up.
“What?”
“Your father left you much more than this house.”
His face went pale.
I asked Patricia to explain.
She opened her briefcase and removed a copy of Richard's estate summary.
Then she slid it across the table.
Marcus read the figures.
His hands started shaking.
“Two million?”
I nodded.
“Approximately, at the time of his death.”
He stared at me.
“Mom, I never received that.”
Silence filled the room.
I looked at Patricia.
She looked equally concerned.
“Marcus,” she asked carefully, “who handled your inheritance distribution?”
He swallowed.
“Nia arranged everything.”
My chest tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“She said I was overwhelmed after Dad died. She offered to handle the paperwork.”
Patricia leaned forward.
“Did you sign documents giving her financial authority?”
Marcus nodded slowly.
“A power of attorney.”
I closed my eyes.
“And have you ever reviewed the accounts yourself?”
He shook his head.
“I trusted my wife.”
I wanted to cry.
Instead, I reached for his hand.
“Sweetheart, we need to find out where your money went.”
He stared at me.
For the first time that afternoon, I saw fear replace confusion.
“Mom, what if it's gone?”
I squeezed his hand.
“Then we'll find out who took it.”
Patricia stood.
“I need to obtain the records.”
She paused.
“There's one more thing. Daniel Whitmore's name appears in a file I reviewed recently.”
I looked up.
“What file?”
“A complaint involving a questionable transfer of assets from an elderly client.”
My heart began pounding.
“Who was the client?”
Patricia hesitated.
“Ruth Jackson.”
I stared at her.
“Ruth?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What happened?”
Patricia looked toward the hallway.
“Ruth contacted me last week. She said someone had been pressuring her to sign documents.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she didn't want to frighten you.”
I stood immediately.
“Where is she now?”
Patricia's expression changed.
“That is exactly what I've been trying to determine.”
A terrible silence followed.
May you like
Then she said the words I had been afraid to hear.
“Evelyn, Ruth hasn't answered her phone in three days.”
