Chapter 4
Simone Carter answered on the first ring.
"Is this Maya?"
"Yes."
She exhaled.
"Thank God."
Grandma sat beside me.
I put the phone on speaker.
Simone explained that she was a licensed real estate agent working with a brokerage in our county.
Six weeks earlier, Marcus had contacted her about selling a family property.
He claimed he was helping his wife and stepdaughter relocate.
"He told me the title paperwork was complicated," Simone said. "But he insisted the owners were willing to sign."
My hands went cold.
"What price?"
There was a pause.
"Three hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I looked at Grandma.
She closed her eyes.
Our house was worth considerably more than that.
Simone continued.
"He said the family needed a fast, confidential sale. He also mentioned that you were turning eighteen and could finally sign the documents yourself."
"Did you meet me?" I asked.
"No. That's what made me suspicious."
She explained that Marcus had sent copies of identification documents and a signed authorization supposedly from me.
But when Simone requested a video meeting with the property owners, Marcus kept making excuses.
Then she searched the public ownership records.
She discovered Grandma and I were the recorded owners.
"And your grandmother's signature was missing from almost everything," Simone said.
Grandma leaned forward.
"Did he receive any money?"
"Not from my brokerage. I refused to list the property without proper verification."
I finally breathed.
Then Simone spoke again.
"But I don't know whether he contacted another agent."
The relief disappeared.
She offered to meet us the following morning and bring everything Marcus had provided.
Grandma agreed.
After the call, I stared at the kitchen wall.
One question kept repeating in my mind.
Why?
Why did Marcus need so much money that he would steal my identity?
And why was my mother helping him push me out?
Grandma made another call.
This time, she contacted her longtime attorney, Denise Walker.
Denise had helped with the house purchase years earlier.
She agreed to meet us at nine the next morning.
Then Grandma turned to me.
"There's something else you deserve to know."
I looked up.
She folded her hands.
"Your father didn't leave that money because he expected to die."
"I know."
"He left it because he wanted to protect you from the kind of childhood he had."
I had never heard much about Dad's childhood.
Grandma explained that Daniel had grown up moving between relatives' homes.
His parents had struggled financially.
He had spent part of his teenage years sleeping on his aunt's couch.
"When he became a father," Grandma said, "he swore you would never experience that uncertainty."
My throat tightened.
"And Mom knew?"
"Every word."
I stared at my father's letter.
"I wish he were here."
Grandma pulled me into her arms.
"So do I, sweetheart."
For a moment, I let myself cry like the seven-year-old girl who had lost her father.
Then Grandma whispered something I would remember forever.
"You don't have to earn the right to be loved, Maya."
I cried harder.
Because that was exactly what I had spent eleven years trying to do.
The following morning, we met Denise at her office.
Simone arrived carrying a thick folder.
She looked around thirty-five, with neatly braided hair and an expression that told me she took her work seriously.
"I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances," she said.
She placed the documents on the table.
Copies of my birth certificate.
An expired school identification card.
The deed.
A proposed sales authorization.
And a signature page supposedly signed by me.
Denise examined everything.
Then she asked an unexpected question.
"Maya, where do you keep your personal documents?"
"In a box in my bedroom."
"Who has access?"
"My mother. Marcus. Me."
Denise nodded.
"Have you ever signed a blank sheet of paper for either of them?"
I thought carefully.
Then I remembered.
Three months earlier, Marcus had asked me to sign what he called an emergency school contact form.
He said my mother was busy and needed the paperwork completed quickly.
I had signed it without reading much.
I felt sick.
"I signed something for Marcus."
Denise looked at me.
"Can you remember what it was?"
"No."
"Did he give you a copy?"
I shook my head.
She exchanged a glance with Simone.
Denise then explained the next steps.
We needed to obtain my credit reports, challenge anything unauthorized, contact the lender, and preserve every suspicious document.
She also recommended filing a police report.
Grandma agreed immediately.
I hesitated.
"Does that mean my mother could be arrested?"
Denise spoke gently.
"It means investigators can determine who did what. Right now, we should not assume everyone had the same role."
I looked at the forged signature.
My mother had lied about the house.
But Marcus had been the one handling the documents.
I wasn't ready to believe she had knowingly stolen my identity.
Not yet.
Then Denise reviewed the custodial account statements Grandma had brought.
The room became quiet.
She pointed to a series of withdrawals.
"These were made over the last twenty months."
Grandma leaned closer.
"How much?"
Denise calculated the total.
"Approximately one hundred and forty-six thousand dollars."
I stared at her.
"From my college money?"
She nodded.
The withdrawals had gone into several accounts.
One appeared to be connected to Marcus's business.
Another was registered under a company called Redbrook Consulting.
I had never heard the name.
Grandma's expression darkened.
"Who authorized them?"
Denise checked the records.
"Claire, as custodian."
The words hit me like a physical blow.
My mother hadn't just kept a secret.
She had signed away most of my future.
I pressed my hands against my knees.
"Can we get it back?"
Denise hesitated.
"We need to trace the money first."
That hesitation frightened me.
Before I could ask more, Simone's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
"It's Marcus."
Everyone became still.
Simone looked at Denise.
"Should I answer?"
Denise nodded.
Simone switched to speaker.
Marcus's voice filled the room.
"Simone, we have a problem."
"What problem?"
"Maya's grandmother found out about the deed."
Simone said nothing.
Marcus continued.
"I need you to tell me whether there's any way to finalize the sale without Evelyn showing up."
My heart began pounding.
Simone kept her voice steady.
"I can't proceed without the owners."
Marcus cursed under his breath.
Then he said something that made my grandmother grip the table.
"Then find someone who can. I've already promised that house to somebody."
Simone looked at us.
"Promised it to whom?"
May you like
Marcus lowered his voice.
"Someone who isn't going to be very patient if I don't deliver."
