Chapter 3
I had never heard my father speak about my wife with such sadness.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't even accusing her with certainty.
He sounded like a man who had spent months carrying information he wished he didn't know.
Nia stood near the window, shaking her head.
"He's turning you against me."
I looked at her.
"Then show me where he's wrong."
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I looked down at Evelyn's notebook.
The pages were filled with dates.
Small amounts.
Large amounts.
Notes about bank visits and calls to an attorney.
One entry caught my attention.
"February 14 — $18,000 missing."
I frowned.
"Eighteen thousand dollars?"
My father nodded.
"Evelyn called me after she found that withdrawal."
"Why you?"
"Because she didn't know who else to trust."
Nia laughed bitterly.
"Of course she trusted him. Everybody trusted Arthur."
I turned toward her.
"What does that mean?"
She looked away.
My father spoke.
"Evelyn and I had known each other for nearly forty years."
I knew that.
They attended the same church.
They volunteered at community events.
After my mother died, Evelyn occasionally helped my father with meals and errands.
I had always thought of her as a family friend.
But Nia's expression suggested something else.
"Mom trusted him more than me," she whispered.
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She began crying.
"Because he always acted like he knew what was best."
My father shook his head.
"Nia, this isn't about me."
She turned sharply.
"It has always been about you!"
I stared at her.
"What are you talking about?"
She looked at me.
"Your father was involved in everything."
She pointed toward the notebook.
"He knew about Mom's money. Her lawyer. Her house."
My father answered quietly.
"Because she asked for help."
Nia shook her head.
"She never asked me."
The words hung between us.
I suddenly saw something I hadn't noticed before.
Nia wasn't only angry about money.
She was angry that her mother had trusted someone else.
I looked at the letter.
"Who is the trustee?"
My father hesitated.
"An independent trust company."
"Not you?"
"No."
I studied him.
"Then why did Nia say you came for the inheritance?"
He looked toward her.
"Because she wanted you to believe I was trying to take it."
Nia stepped forward.
"That's not true."
My father held her gaze.
"Then explain the document you wanted me to sign."
She folded her arms.
"It was supposed to correct Mom's mistake."
"What mistake?"
"Treating me like a criminal."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Nia, were you taking money from her?"
She stared at me.
Then whispered, "She gave me money."
"How much?"
"I don't remember."
My father opened the notebook.
"Evelyn remembered."
Nia's expression hardened.
"Of course she did."
I looked at her.
"Why are you angry that she kept records?"
She began crying again.
"Because she never stopped judging me!"
I stepped closer.
"Did you take eighteen thousand dollars?"
She looked down.
After a long silence, she whispered, "I borrowed some money."
My heart sank.
"Without asking?"
She nodded.
I felt physically sick.
"Why?"
"I needed it."
"For what?"
She shook her head.
"Marcus, please."
I remembered our arguments about money.
The unexplained credit-card balances.
The expensive purchases.
The times Nia insisted she had everything under control.
I had believed her.
Now I wondered how much I had missed.
My father stood.
"There's something else you need to know."
I turned.
"What?"
"Evelyn contacted an attorney after she discovered the withdrawals."
Nia's head snapped up.
"Dad, don't!"
I stared at her.
She had called him Dad.
That wasn't unusual.
She sometimes used the word affectionately.
But now it sounded desperate.
My father continued.
"The attorney advised her to review all account access and preserve records."
I swallowed.
"Did she report the missing money?"
"Not before she died."
"Why not?"
He looked toward Nia.
"She wanted to give her daughter a chance to explain."
I closed my eyes.
Evelyn had been dying.
She was dealing with pain, fear, and medical treatment.
And she had still been trying to protect her child.
I looked at Nia.
"Did you ever explain?"
She shook her head.
"No."
The answer was barely audible.
I sat down.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question that had been building inside me.
"How much money did you take?"
Nia stared at the floor.
My father waited.
Finally, she whispered, "I don't know."
I shook my head.
"Nia."
She looked up.
"I said I don't know!"
I stood.
"Then we'll find out."
She stared at me.
"What?"
"I'm calling the attorney."
Her expression changed immediately.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because he'll make everything worse."
I looked at her.
"How?"
She didn't answer.
I took out my phone.
My father gave me the name of Evelyn's estate attorney.
Samuel Brooks.
I called his office.
His assistant answered.
When I explained the situation, she placed me on hold.
A few minutes later, Samuel came on the line.
"Mr. Williams, I understand you have questions."
"Yes."
I looked toward Nia.
She was staring at me.
"I need to understand my mother-in-law's estate."
Samuel spoke carefully.
"I'm limited in what I can disclose without proper authorization."
"I understand."
He paused.
"But I can confirm that Mrs. Carter created a trust and that certain documents are being reviewed."
My heart tightened.
"What documents?"
He hesitated.
"Requests concerning access to trust assets."
I looked at Nia.
"Who submitted them?"
"I can't discuss confidential details over the phone."
I took a breath.
"Can we arrange a meeting?"
"Yes."
We scheduled an appointment for the following morning.
Before ending the call, Samuel asked something unexpected.
"Mr. Williams, is your wife with you?"
I looked at Nia.
"Yes."
His voice became serious.
"Please tell her that the firm has preserved the original documents."
I frowned.
"Why?"
There was a pause.
Then he said, "Because someone attempted to replace them."
My blood ran cold.
I stared at Nia.
She looked away.
Samuel continued.
"And Mr. Williams?"
"Yes?"
"Do not destroy the envelope your wife gave you."
I looked down at the torn seal.
"Why?"
"Because we believe it may contain altered documents."
I couldn't speak.
He added, "The originals are different."
Nia rushed toward me.
"Hang up!"
I stepped backward.
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
And suddenly I understood why she had been so desperate for me to open the envelope before my father could explain.
May you like
She hadn't wanted me to discover the truth.
She had wanted me to accept her version of it first.
