Chapter 3
I had never seen Malik look frightened of our grandfather before.
He'd always been confident.
Sometimes arrogant.
He walked into family meetings as though he already owned everything.
Now he stood beneath the stained-glass windows, staring at the floor.
Grandpa Arthur waited.
"Tell him."
Malik swallowed.
"Grandpa, please."
I stepped forward.
"What happened to my mother's property?"
Malik looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the little boy who used to follow me around family gatherings.
The cousin I'd taught to swim.
The teenager who once begged me to help him study for his driving test.
Then his expression hardened.
"It was just business."
My stomach tightened.
"What was?"
Grandpa struck his cane against the floor.
"Malik."
My cousin exhaled.
"Three years ago, I arranged a lease on the Willow Creek property."
I froze.
Willow Creek.
My mother's land.
The small estate outside Atlanta where I'd spent my earliest childhood.
After Dad died, Mom moved us to a modest house closer to her nursing job.
But she kept Willow Creek.
She said it belonged to my future.
After her death five years ago, I'd inherited her interest.
At least, that was what I believed.
I stared at Malik.
"What lease?"
He looked away.
"A commercial agreement."
My heart pounded.
"With whom?"
"A development company."
I shook my head.
"Malik, I never approved a lease."
He lifted his chin.
"Grandpa's trust controlled some of the surrounding land."
I looked toward Arthur.
He shook his head.
"Not your mother's parcel."
The room fell silent.
Malik's face changed.
I stared at him.
"You used my property without permission?"
He swallowed.
"I thought the arrangement would benefit everyone."
I felt anger rise.
"Everyone?"
He said nothing.
Grandpa looked devastated.
"Malik represented himself as authorized to negotiate for the estate."
I couldn't breathe.
"Did he receive money?"
Arthur nodded.
"An advance."
My stomach twisted.
"How much?"
Malik looked away.
Grandpa answered.
"One hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I stepped backward.
One hundred and twenty thousand.
Money connected to my mother's land.
Money I'd never received.
I stared at Malik.
"Where is it?"
He rubbed his face.
"I invested it."
"In what?"
He hesitated.
"A hospitality venture."
I laughed bitterly.
"You used my mother's property to finance your business?"
He became angry.
"You're acting like I stole the whole estate!"
I stared at him.
"You had no right to use any of it."
The elders murmured.
Grandpa raised his cane.
"Quiet."
Then he looked at Malik.
"That is why I removed you from the succession list."
Malik stared at him.
"Because of one mistake?"
Arthur shook his head.
"Because you refused to correct it."
I looked toward Grandpa.
"You knew three years ago?"
His expression changed.
I felt cold.
"Grandpa."
He lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"And nobody told me?"
He looked devastated.
"I wanted to resolve it privately."
I laughed through my tears.
Privately.
That word was becoming poisonous.
Every time someone in my family said they wanted to handle something privately, it meant I was the last person allowed to know the truth.
I looked at Grandpa.
"You had three years."
He nodded.
"I know."
"You could've called me."
"I know."
"You could've asked whether I approved the lease."
His voice broke.
"I should have."
I stepped away.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
My father had died under circumstances nobody wanted to discuss.
My mother had worked hard to protect my future.
And now Malik had apparently used part of that future to support himself.
I felt surrounded by people who claimed to love me while making decisions about my life without asking.
Aunt Josephine approached.
"Isaiah, sweetheart."
I shook my head.
"Please."
She stopped.
I needed space.
I walked toward the stained-glass windows.
Outside, sunlight covered the garden.
I remembered running through that garden as a child.
My father chasing me.
My mother laughing.
Grandpa standing on the porch.
Back then, I believed our family was unbreakable.
Now I wondered whether it had ever been honest.
After several minutes, Grandpa called my name.
I turned.
He looked exhausted.
"Isaiah, I need to tell you why I asked you here today."
I stared at him.
"Isn't it obvious?"
He shook his head.
"No."
I walked back slowly.
He continued.
"The trust's next stewardship appointment is coming due."
I nodded.
"I know."
"I've spent years deciding who should guide the family's legacy."
Malik looked toward him.
Grandpa continued.
"Not simply who should receive money."
I swallowed.
"The family assets belong to different beneficiaries under different agreements."
He looked at me.
"But the heritage trust requires someone who understands responsibility."
I stared at him.
"And you chose me?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I looked down at the necklace.
For years, I'd wanted recognition.
Now that it was being offered, it felt complicated.
I didn't want to inherit a title that required me to ignore what had happened.
I looked at Grandpa.
"I can't accept anything until I know the truth."
He nodded slowly.
"I expected that."
Then he reached into his robe.
He removed a small leather notebook.
My heart tightened.
"What is that?"
He held it toward me.
"Your father's journal."
I stared at it.
"Where did you get it?"
Grandpa's eyes filled.
"He left it in my study."
I opened the cover.
My father's name appeared on the first page.
Daniel Bennett.
Below it were several dates.
The final entry was written two days before his death.
I began reading.
"Raymond has asked me to stop reviewing the accounts.
He says exposing the missing funds will destroy the family.
I told him silence is what will destroy us.
Tomorrow, I'm meeting with Eleanor.
If the documents prove what I suspect, I will take them to the authorities."
My hands began shaking.
I turned the page.
The next entry was unfinished.
"Raymond called tonight. He wants to meet me alone before I see Eleanor."
I stared at the words.
Then looked up.
"Grandpa."
Arthur closed his eyes.
I swallowed.
"Did my father meet Raymond that night?"
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
"Grandpa."
His voice cracked.
"Yes."
My heart stopped.
I looked at the portrait.
My father.
My uncle.
Two brothers smiling beside each other.
Then I whispered the question that had been haunting me since the ceremony began.
"Was Raymond the last person to see my father alive?"
May you like
Grandpa lowered his head.
And his silence told me the answer before he spoke.
