Chapter 6
By the time I reached the family house, two police officers were already standing at the front door.
My father had called them after I told him about Maya's scream.
I parked behind their vehicle.
My hands were trembling.
The old house looked exactly the same.
White columns.
Perfect flowerbeds.
Beautiful windows.
I had once believed beauty meant safety.
I knew better now.
One officer approached me.
"Are you Nia Brooks?"
"Yes. My stepsister called me for help."
He nodded.
"We're checking on her welfare."
I looked toward the house.
"Is she okay?"
"We haven't spoken with her yet."
Before I could say anything else, the front door opened.
Vanessa appeared.
She was wearing a silk robe and an expression of practiced innocence.
"Officers, this is a misunderstanding."
Then she saw me.
Her face changed.
"You."
I took a step forward.
"Where's Maya?"
"She's resting."
"I want to hear that from her."
Vanessa folded her arms.
"You have no right to enter my home."
My father pulled into the driveway behind me.
He got out before his car had fully settled.
"Vanessa, where's Maya?"
Vanessa looked startled.
"Marcus, what is all this?"
He walked straight past her.
"Maya!"
A door opened upstairs.
Maya appeared at the landing.
Her mascara had streaked down her cheeks.
One sleeve of her blouse was torn.
But she was standing.
Relief nearly brought me to my knees.
"Maya?"
She looked at me.
Then at the officers.
"Mom took my phone."
Vanessa snapped, "Because she was being hysterical!"
One officer raised a hand.
"Ma'am, let her speak."
Maya slowly came downstairs.
She stopped beside me.
I could feel her trembling.
The officer asked if she needed medical attention.
She shook her head.
Then she looked directly at her mother.
"You grabbed my arm and tried to take my phone. I fell against the table."
Vanessa scoffed.
"I was stopping you from spreading lies."
Maya lifted her chin.
"I'm telling the truth."
The words seemed to surprise everyone.
Especially Vanessa.
The officers spoke to Maya privately.
They explained her options and documented what had happened.
Because she was an adult, she was free to leave.
She turned toward me.
"Can I come with you?"
I hesitated only a moment.
"Yes."
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Of course. Run to Nia. See how long she lets you stay."
Maya's face crumpled.
My father moved toward Vanessa.
"Stop."
She stared at him.
"What?"
"Stop speaking to her like that."
Vanessa blinked.
He looked exhausted.
But his voice remained steady.
"She's your daughter."
Vanessa pointed at Maya.
"She's been helping Nia destroy our family!"
My father looked at her.
"No, Vanessa. You've done that yourself."
I had waited years to hear him say something like that.
But hearing it now didn't erase the past.
Maya collected a small bag.
Then she followed me outside.
Before we reached my car, Vanessa shouted from the doorway.
"You'll both regret this!"
I kept walking.
Maya cried quietly during the drive.
I didn't force her to talk.
When we reached my house, she stared at the entrance.
"You're really letting me stay here?"
"For now."
She nodded.
"That's more than I deserve."
I looked at her.
"Maybe. But nobody deserves to feel trapped."
I showed her the guest suite.
Fresh towels.
A comfortable bed.
A balcony overlooking the hills.
She stood in the doorway, overwhelmed.
"I've never slept in a room this beautiful."
I almost laughed.
"You lived in a mansion."
She shook her head.
"That wasn't the same."
I didn't understand until she continued.
"Everything in that house belonged to Mom. Even when Dad bought something, she decided who could use it."
I watched her expression.
"She controlled you too?"
Maya nodded.
"I thought that was normal."
That night, Maya came downstairs while I was reviewing documents.
She carried a small black notebook.
"Mom left this in my car last week."
I stared at it.
"Why do you have it?"
"She forgot it after a meeting. I was going to return it."
She placed it on the table.
"I looked inside after she told me to stop talking to you."
I opened the notebook.
There were handwritten names.
Account numbers.
Dates.
And several initials.
Near the back, I found a list of payments labeled "Vantage."
My pulse quickened.
Then I saw something that made my stomach drop.
"Elizabeth Brooks — final balance."
Beneath it was a date.
The day before my mother's fatal accident.
I looked at Maya.
"Did you know this was here?"
She shook her head.
"I didn't understand what it meant."
Neither did I.
Not yet.
I photographed the pages and called Eleanor.
She told me to preserve the notebook and avoid drawing conclusions until the entries could be investigated.
The next morning, David came to my office.
He studied the notebook for nearly an hour.
Then he compared it with the old foundation accounts.
His expression grew serious.
"These entries appear to match some of the unexplained transfers."
I leaned forward.
"What about the line with my mother's name?"
He looked up.
"I can't tell you what 'final balance' means. It could be an accounting reference, or something else entirely."
My chest tightened.
"Can you investigate?"
"Yes."
He pointed toward another entry.
"But this is what concerns me right now."
I looked down.
A handwritten note appeared beside the eight-hundred-thousand-dollar transfer.
"MC authorization — signature secured."
I frowned.
"MC?"
David nodded.
"Marcus Carter was your father's name before he legally adopted the Brooks surname after marrying your mother, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then we need to examine what he signed."
My father had believed he was approving a business loan.
But Vanessa's notebook suggested she had used his signature for something much larger.
That afternoon, Eleanor received confirmation from the bank.
A property-related document had been submitted using my father's signature.
It purported to authorize a transaction involving the family home.
The trust administrator had never approved it.
Eleanor looked at me across my dining table.
"This may be an attempted unauthorized transfer."
I felt my stomach twist.
"To whom?"
She slid a copy toward me.
The proposed recipient was a private holding company.
I read the name.
Golden Crown Properties.
Then I saw the listed contact.
Vanessa Brooks.
Maya stared over my shoulder.
"My mom was trying to take the house?"
Eleanor spoke carefully.
"That's what the submitted paperwork appears designed to accomplish."
I sat down slowly.
Three days earlier, Vanessa had thrown me out because she wanted Maya to have my bedroom.
Now it looked as if she had been preparing to take the entire property.
And perhaps she had brought me the metal box because she feared someone else would discover it first.
But one question remained.
Why had she brought the evidence directly to me?
That evening, I received a message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
A photograph of Vanessa standing outside my grandfather's office five years earlier.
Beside her stood a man I had never seen.
The message contained only seven words.
"Ask your father who this man is."
May you like
I stared at the image.
Because the man was holding the same black briefcase my mother had carried on the day she died.
