Chapter 5
The words kept repeating in my mind.
Mentally unfit.
My own father had used those words to describe me.
I sat in Rebecca Lawson's office, staring at the petition on her desk.
It claimed I was emotionally unstable.
It claimed I suffered from severe judgment problems.
It claimed I couldn't be trusted with large financial decisions.
And it claimed my father should be appointed to manage my inheritance.
I felt physically sick.
“He knows this isn't true.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The allegations will require evidence. Filing them doesn't make them facts.”
I looked at the signature.
Marcus Carter.
My father.
The man who taught me to ride a bicycle.
The man who attended my elementary school graduation.
The man whose approval I had spent my entire childhood trying to earn.
“He really did this,” I whispered.
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Nia, I want you to focus on something important.”
I looked up.
“You have a job. You manage your own finances. You live independently. And you have a documented history of responsible decisions.”
I swallowed.
“But what if people believe him?”
“Then we'll show them the evidence.”
I nodded.
Still, I felt frightened.
My father had spent years convincing relatives that I was overly sensitive.
He told people Maya was confident and outgoing.
He described me as fragile.
Whenever I disagreed with him, he called me emotional.
Whenever I cried, he said I was proving his point.
Had he been preparing this story for years?
My phone began vibrating.
Maya.
I ignored it.
She called again.
Then a third time.
Finally, a message appeared.
“Dad says you're trying to destroy the family. We need to talk.”
I stared at it.
Then I typed back.
“Ask Dad why he used my name on a two-million-dollar loan.”
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
A minute later, Maya called again.
I answered.
“What?”
She sounded furious.
“Why are you doing this?”
I closed my eyes.
“Doing what?”
“Trying to take everything!”
I almost laughed.
“Maya, Dad took money meant for me.”
“You don't know that!”
“I have bank records.”
“Those documents could be wrong.”
“Then let the investigation prove it.”
She went silent.
I continued.
“Did you know your Mercedes was purchased using money from my education account?”
She gasped.
“That is not true.”
“Ask Dad.”
“Stop trying to make me feel guilty!”
I gripped the phone.
“I'm not asking you to feel guilty. I'm asking you to stop pretending this doesn't matter.”
Her voice cracked.
“You've always been jealous of me.”
I felt tears rising.
“Maya, I never wanted your life.”
“Then why are you trying to take my birthday car?”
“Because it may have been purchased with assets belonging to my trust.”
She began crying.
“Dad said Grandpa left us both something.”
“He may have.”
“Then why is everything suddenly yours?”
I took a breath.
“Because Grandpa made decisions about his estate that neither of us fully understands yet.”
She was silent.
Then she whispered, “Dad said you would do this.”
My stomach tightened.
“Do what?”
“Turn against us.”
I stared at the wall.
“How long has he been telling you that?”
She hesitated.
“Since before Grandpa died.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Maya realized what she had said.
“Nia—”
“How long?”
She lowered her voice.
“He told me Grandpa was confused. He said you were manipulating him.”
I felt cold.
Grandpa had been sick.
But he had recognized everyone until near the end.
He knew his finances.
He knew his family.
And he had been trying to protect me.
“Did Dad tell you I was trying to steal from him?”
Maya didn't answer.
I whispered, “Maya.”
“Yes.”
The word hurt.
For months, maybe years, my father had been teaching my twin sister to distrust me.
I looked at Rebecca.
She was watching me carefully.
I turned back to the phone.
“Maya, I have to go.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
Her voice changed.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandpa really think I was a bad person?”
My heart broke.
“No.”
She sniffled.
“Then why did he leave everything to you?”
I looked at the letter on my lap.
“Maybe because he knew I needed protection.”
Maya started crying again.
For once, I didn't know how to comfort her.
“I'll call you later,” I said.
Then I ended the call.
That afternoon, I went to my mother's requested meeting.
It took place at Mr. Bennett's office.
My mother arrived alone.
She looked exhausted.
Her eyes were swollen.
She wore no jewelry.
I had never seen her look so ordinary.
Or so vulnerable.
“Nia,” she whispered.
I sat across from her.
“Mom.”
She reached for my hand.
I pulled it away.
Her face crumpled.
“I understand.”
I stared at her.
“Do you?”
She nodded.
“I know I failed you.”
The words surprised me.
My mother had apologized for small things before.
Forgotten appointments.
Missed phone calls.
Burned dinners.
But she had never admitted something this serious.
“I should have protected you,” she whispered.
I felt tears rising.
“Why didn't you?”
She looked down.
“Because I was afraid of losing my marriage.”
I stared at her.
“And you were willing to lose your daughter instead?”
She began sobbing.
I hated seeing her cry.
But I didn't rescue her from the question.
Not this time.
She took a tissue.
“Your father changed after the dealerships became successful.”
I said nothing.
“He became obsessed with image. With winning. With proving he was better than everyone who doubted him.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
She hesitated.
Then whispered, “Everything.”
My stomach tightened.
She looked toward Mr. Bennett.
“Jonathan, she deserves to hear it.”
He nodded.
My mother turned back toward me.
“Nia, when you and Maya were born, your father was facing a financial crisis.”
I frowned.
“He always said the businesses were successful.”
“Not then.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“He had borrowed money from your grandfather.”
“How much?”
“Almost six hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“He was trying to save the first dealership.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Your grandfather agreed to help, but he wanted strict conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“He wanted money placed in separate trusts for both of you.”
I leaned forward.
“Both of us?”
My mother nodded.
“He wanted you and Maya protected if the business failed.”
My heart pounded.
“Then what happened?”
She closed her eyes.
“Your father convinced your grandfather that Maya's trust should remain connected to the family business.”
I stared at her.
“And mine?”
“He was supposed to keep yours separate.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
My mother began crying harder.
“Because your grandfather had discovered that Marcus was using one child's accounts to cover obligations tied to the other.”
I stared at her.
I couldn't speak.
She continued.
“Your grandfather insisted that money intended for you be protected.”
“Why me?”
My mother's face twisted.
“Because Marcus had already decided that Maya would inherit the dealerships.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“And what was I supposed to inherit?”
She looked down.
“Your education. Your trust. Your independence.”
I stared at her.
Then I whispered, “So Dad decided one daughter deserved the family empire, and the other deserved to disappear?”
She shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
“But that's what happened.”
My mother couldn't deny it.
Then Mr. Bennett opened another folder.
“Nia, there's something we need to clarify.”
I looked at him.
“Your grandfather's estate plan did not simply transfer everything to you because he disliked Maya.”
He paused.
“He believed your father had violated the original agreements protecting both daughters.”
My heart pounded.
“And he intended to correct those violations.”
I stared at the documents.
Then my mother whispered, “There's one more thing.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She began trembling.
“Your father didn't start treating you differently when you were children.”
I swallowed.
“When did he start?”
Her eyes filled.
“The day you were born.”
May you like
I felt the room go silent.
And when she finally explained why, I realized the money had never been the deepest secret in our family.
