Chapter 6
I stared at the signature until the letters blurred.
Marcus Carter.
My husband's name.
Written on a document authorizing a major property transaction.
But Marcus was sitting beside me, insisting he'd never signed it.
Rebecca examined the copy.
"We need the original document and the circumstances under which it was executed."
Marcus looked furious.
"Someone used my name."
"Possibly," Rebecca said. "But we'll verify before drawing conclusions."
He stood.
Then walked toward the window.
I could see his shoulders trembling.
I wanted to hold him.
But I knew he needed a moment.
His father had trusted the people managing his estate.
Marcus had trusted his mother.
And now both of those trusts seemed broken.
"Marcus," I whispered.
He turned.
His eyes were wet.
"How could she do this?"
I walked toward him.
"We don't know everything yet."
He shook his head.
"She lied about the trust."
"Yes."
"She hid Dad's letter."
"Yes."
"She humiliated you at our wedding."
I swallowed.
"Yes."
He looked toward Rebecca.
"And now somebody forged my signature?"
Rebecca nodded carefully.
"That's a possibility we need to investigate."
Marcus covered his face.
I wrapped my arms around him.
For the first time since the wedding, he began crying.
Not angry tears.
Not frustrated tears.
The deep, painful tears of someone realizing the person who raised him might have betrayed him.
I held him until he could breathe again.
Then he stepped back.
"Tell us what to do."
Rebecca explained the next steps.
Obtain certified records.
Request the trust accounting.
Review the property transfers.
Identify who authorized each transaction.
And preserve all communications.
She also explained that a court could compel a trustee to provide information and might intervene if there was evidence of misconduct.
Marcus listened carefully.
This time, he didn't argue.
He didn't defend Evelyn.
He simply nodded.
"Let's do it."
Over the following weeks, our honeymoon became a legal investigation.
Instead of traveling to the coast, we spent our mornings gathering documents.
Our afternoons meeting professionals.
And our evenings trying to remember that we were newlyweds.
Some nights, Marcus fell asleep holding my hand.
Other nights, he lay awake staring at the ceiling.
I knew he was grieving.
Not his father's death.
He had already grieved that loss.
He was grieving the mother he thought he knew.
Meanwhile, my own pain hadn't disappeared.
Every morning, I looked in the mirror and saw my shortened hair.
Tasha had helped me reshape it beautifully.
But sometimes I still reached behind my head expecting to feel the long braid.
And when my fingers found nothing, the memory returned.
The scissors.
The laughter.
The guests staring.
The helplessness.
One evening, Marcus found me crying in our bathroom.
He stood in the doorway.
"Baby?"
I wiped my face.
"I'm okay."
He walked closer.
"No, you're not."
I looked down.
"It's stupid."
He gently lifted my chin.
"Don't say that."
I swallowed.
"I keep hearing the scissors."
His expression changed.
I continued.
"I know hair grows back. I know I'm still beautiful. But she took something from me without permission."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"And everyone saw."
Marcus wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"You didn't cut it."
"No."
He kissed my forehead.
"But I should've understood sooner how much she wanted to hurt you."
I held him tighter.
For a long time, we stood in silence.
Then he whispered, "You never have to earn your place with me."
I began crying harder.
Those were the words I'd needed.
Not promises of revenge.
Not explanations.
Just reassurance that I belonged beside him exactly as I was.
The next day, Tasha visited.
She brought a box filled with hair accessories.
Colorful scarves.
Decorative pins.
Small white flowers.
And a beautiful satin bonnet.
She smiled.
"Time for a little fun."
I laughed.
"What are you planning?"
"A reminder that your hair belongs to you."
For the next hour, she showed me different styles.
Some playful.
Some elegant.
Some completely unexpected.
Marcus watched from the doorway, smiling.
When Tasha finished, I looked in the mirror.
My short braids framed my face.
Gold clips caught the light.
For the first time since the wedding, I smiled at my reflection without thinking about Evelyn.
Then Rebecca called.
The financial review had uncovered a serious problem.
Records indicated that money from the trust had been transferred into accounts connected to Evergreen Holdings.
Some transfers had no clear supporting documentation.
Others appeared inconsistent with the trust's stated purposes.
Rebecca had also found evidence suggesting the disputed property transaction occurred after the second trustee died.
Marcus stared at her through the video call.
"Who approved it?"
She hesitated.
"Your mother appears to have signed as trustee."
"And my signature?"
"That document is still being examined."
Marcus clenched his fists.
"How much money are we talking about?"
Rebecca looked serious.
"Potentially more than a million dollars in disputed transactions over several years."
I felt dizzy.
Marcus sank into his chair.
"A million?"
"Possibly more. We need a complete accounting."
He stared at the screen.
Then whispered, "My father left all that?"
Rebecca nodded.
"Your father appears to have built substantial assets."
Marcus covered his mouth.
I reached for his hand.
Then Rebecca continued.
"There's another issue."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She looked at both of us.
"Some trust money appears to have been used to purchase a house."
Marcus frowned.
"What house?"
Rebecca turned the document toward the camera.
The address appeared.
I read it twice.
Then looked at Marcus.
His face had gone completely pale.
It was Evelyn's house.
The enormous property where she hosted holiday dinners.
The one she told everyone she'd purchased with her own savings.
May you like
Marcus stared at the screen.
Then whispered, "My mother has been living in my inheritance."
