Chapter 4
I stared at Dad.
"That's impossible."
He looked at me with tears in his eyes.
"I know."
"I never signed anything!"
"I believe you."
My hands began shaking.
One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
Money my mother had saved for me.
Money she wanted to protect until I became an adult.
Someone had tried to take it.
And they had used my name.
I felt sick.
"Daddy, can they really do that?"
Dad stood.
"Not legally. We're going to stop this."
Tasha sat beside me.
Her face was pale.
Then she whispered, "Maya?"
I turned.
"What?"
"I think I know what I signed."
My heart stopped.
Dad looked at her.
"Tasha, tell us."
She began crying.
"Mom told me I was signing as a witness."
I stared.
"A witness to what?"
She shook her head.
"I didn't understand."
Dad sat beside her.
"Sweetheart, it's okay. Just tell us what you remember."
Tasha wiped her eyes.
"There were papers on the kitchen table."
I listened carefully.
"Mom said Maya had already signed them."
My stomach twisted.
"She said you were helping with college planning."
I shook my head.
"I never signed anything."
Tasha nodded.
"I know that now."
Dad closed his eyes.
"What did your mother ask you to do?"
"She pointed at a line and told me to write my name."
"Did you see the other signature?"
Tasha hesitated.
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
"Did you see Mom write it?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Dad took a slow breath.
"Thank you for telling us."
Tasha began crying harder.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at her.
Part of me wanted to be furious.
She had signed a document that could have helped steal my inheritance.
But another part of me understood.
She had trusted her mother.
Just as I trusted Dad.
I reached for her hand.
"You need to tell Charles everything."
She nodded.
"I will."
Dad called Charles immediately.
He explained Tasha's statement.
Charles asked us not to confront Denise.
He wanted to preserve the documents.
Verify the signatures.
And notify the trustee that the authorization was disputed.
By that evening, the attempted distribution had been placed on hold.
But that didn't make me feel safe.
Because Denise still lived in our house.
Still had access to Dad's office.
Still knew where I slept.
And I had no idea how far she was willing to go.
That night, Dad asked Denise to meet him in the living room.
Charles joined by video call.
I sat beside Dad.
Tasha sat near the doorway.
Denise entered carrying her handbag.
She looked annoyed.
"Why is everyone staring at me?"
Dad spoke calmly.
"We need to discuss Maya's trust."
Denise froze.
For a moment, her expression changed.
Then she smiled.
"What about it?"
Dad placed copies of the disputed documents on the coffee table.
"Did you submit these?"
She glanced at them.
"No."
Dad didn't move.
"Denise."
She folded her arms.
"I handle household paperwork, Marcus. You know that."
"That's not what I asked."
Her expression hardened.
"Why are you interrogating me?"
Charles spoke from the laptop.
"Mrs. Carter, these documents contain disputed signatures and were submitted in connection with a request for trust funds."
Denise looked toward the screen.
"And who are you?"
"Charles Bennett. The family's attorney."
Her face tightened.
"I know who you are."
Dad leaned forward.
"Did you take documents from my office?"
Denise laughed bitterly.
"Are you seriously accusing me of stealing?"
I felt anger rise.
She had accused me without hesitation.
Now she couldn't tolerate a question.
Dad continued.
"The original trust papers are missing."
Denise shrugged.
"Maybe you misplaced them."
Charles spoke again.
"We're obtaining certified copies. The missing originals don't prevent an investigation."
Denise went quiet.
Then her eyes moved toward Tasha.
"What did you tell them?"
My stepsister flinched.
Dad immediately spoke.
"Don't blame Tasha."
Denise stared at him.
"Excuse me?"
"She told us you asked her to sign a document."
Denise's expression changed.
"Tasha?"
Tasha began crying.
"I'm sorry, Mom."
Denise stepped toward her.
"You promised me!"
Dad stood.
"Stop."
Denise froze.
He moved between them.
"You will not intimidate either girl."
I stared at him.
He had never spoken to Denise like that before.
She looked stunned.
Then furious.
"Marcus, you're choosing them over your wife?"
Dad's expression hardened.
"I'm choosing the truth."
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Denise grabbed her handbag.
"Fine."
She walked toward the door.
Dad called after her.
"Where are you going?"
"Somewhere I'm appreciated."
She slammed the door.
I stared after her.
My heart was pounding.
Tasha began sobbing.
Dad rushed toward her.
"It's okay."
She shook her head.
"No, it's not!"
He held her.
"Sweetheart—"
"She's going to hate me!"
Dad's face softened.
I looked at my stepsister.
She was sixteen.
Terrified.
And still desperate for her mother's love.
I understood that feeling more than I wanted to.
That evening, Dad arranged for Tasha to stay with her aunt, Denise's older sister, Monica.
Monica had always been kind to both of us.
She arrived an hour later.
When Dad explained the situation, her expression changed.
"I warned Denise."
We all froze.
Dad looked at her.
"Warned her about what?"
Monica hesitated.
Then sighed.
"About Victor Hayes."
My heart accelerated.
Dad stepped closer.
"You know Victor?"
Monica nodded.
"Unfortunately."
I felt cold.
"How?"
She looked at Tasha.
Then at me.
"Victor was involved with Denise before she married Marcus."
The room went silent.
Dad stared.
"What?"
Monica looked ashamed.
"They used to work together."
Dad's face drained of color.
"Work together doing what?"
Monica swallowed.
"Financial consulting."
Charles, still connected by video, leaned forward.
"Monica, do you know whether their relationship was strictly professional?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered, "No."
My stomach dropped.
Dad stared at her.
"What are you saying?"
Monica looked directly at him.
"Marcus, I think Denise married you because of Maya's inheritance."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dad sat down heavily.
I felt the room tilt.
My stepmother hadn't simply become greedy after moving into our home.
She might have entered our lives because she knew about the money Mom left me.
I looked at the framed photograph of my mother hanging beside the staircase.
Her warm smile.
Her beautiful eyes.
The woman who had spent her final months worrying about my future.
And suddenly, I understood why Denise had always been so interested in my college plans.
My birthday.
My trust.
She hadn't been trying to help me grow up.
She had been counting the days until she could get near my money.
Then Monica spoke again.
"There's something else you need to know."
Dad looked up.
"What?"
Monica's eyes filled.
"Victor doesn't just work with Denise."
She swallowed.
"He has records connected to your first wife's estate."
My blood ran cold.
Dad whispered, "What kind of records?"
May you like
Monica looked at me.
Then said, "Records that might explain why Maya's trust was worth much more than anyone told her."
