Chapter 5
I wanted to run downstairs and demand the missing folder.
Dad stopped me.
"Maya, wait."
I turned.
"Why?"
"Because we need to know exactly what's missing before confronting her."
I stared at him.
"Grandma left me something from Mom."
His eyes filled.
"I know."
I held the letter tightly.
For years, I'd believed the last pieces of my mother were photographs, jewelry, and memories.
Now I was learning she'd left something more.
Something Grandma had protected.
Something Denise might have hidden.
My chest ached.
Dad sat beside me on the attic floor.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"For not knowing."
I shook my head.
"You couldn't know everything."
He smiled sadly.
"No. But I should have kept better track of the family records."
I looked down at Grandma's letter.
"Do you think Mom wanted me to have a house?"
Dad took a slow breath.
"Your mother wanted you to have security."
My eyes filled.
He continued.
"When she got sick, she worried about what would happen to you if I struggled financially."
I swallowed.
"You never told me."
He looked at me.
"You were nine when she died. I wanted you to remember her love, not her fear."
I began crying.
Dad wrapped an arm around me.
For a long time, we sat quietly.
Then I wiped my cheeks.
"We need to find the trust."
He nodded.
"We will."
The next morning, Daniel began searching property and trust records.
He also contacted the financial institution Grandma had used.
By afternoon, he had found a reference to a trust named after my mother.
The Angela Robinson Family Trust.
I stared at the name.
Angela Robinson.
My mother.
I hadn't heard anyone say her full name in years.
Daniel explained that the trust appeared to have been established after Mom's death.
Grandma had served as trustee.
The beneficiaries and property details required further verification.
But the trust existed.
I covered my mouth.
"She really did it."
Dad's eyes filled.
"Yes."
Daniel continued.
"There is a property associated with the trust."
My heart pounded.
"Where?"
He gave us an address.
I recognized the street.
It was in a growing neighborhood near downtown Atlanta.
Dad frowned.
"That area has changed dramatically."
Daniel nodded.
"The property may be worth considerably more than when it was purchased."
I stared at him.
"Can we see it?"
"After we verify the current ownership records."
I nodded.
Then Daniel looked serious.
"There's something concerning."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The trust records include a recent administrative request."
Dad leaned forward.
"Submitted by whom?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Sterling Property Holdings."
My blood turned cold.
Denise's company.
Again.
I stared at Dad.
He looked furious.
Daniel continued.
"The request appears to seek authority over trust-related property administration. We need to determine whether it was valid or completed."
I swallowed.
"Could Denise have taken the property?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Not simply by submitting a request. But the paperwork warrants investigation."
Dad took my hand.
I felt numb.
Every new discovery led back to Denise.
The maintenance payments.
The forged-looking signature.
The suspicious letter.
The missing trust folder.
Now the administrative request.
It no longer felt like coincidence.
That evening, Dad asked Denise to meet us in the living room.
She came downstairs wearing a black dress and expensive earrings.
Her expression was cold.
"What now?"
Dad placed Grandma's letter on the table.
Denise glanced at it.
Her face changed.
"Where did you find that?"
I stared at her.
"In Grandma's trunk."
She looked away.
Dad spoke quietly.
"We know about Angela's trust."
Denise went still.
Then she laughed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Dad shook his head.
"Don't."
Her smile disappeared.
I stepped forward.
"Where's the folder?"
She frowned.
"What folder?"
"The one Grandma kept with her trust documents."
Denise crossed her arms.
"How would I know?"
Dad looked at her.
"You organized those boxes."
"Years ago."
"Then you may remember what happened to the documents."
Denise stared at him.
"I threw away old paperwork that wasn't needed."
My stomach dropped.
"You threw away my mother's trust documents?"
She shrugged.
"How was I supposed to know they mattered?"
I felt tears rise.
Dad's expression hardened.
"Because you had no authority to decide they didn't matter."
Denise looked offended.
"Arthur, I was helping clean the house."
I shook my head.
"Then why did your company submit an administrative request involving that trust?"
Her face drained.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
"Richard handled that."
Dad frowned.
"Richard who?"
"Richard Lawson."
I looked at Dad.
He looked equally confused.
Denise continued.
"He's a financial consultant."
Dad's voice became cold.
"Why was a financial consultant involved in my daughter's trust?"
Denise looked away.
"He said he could improve the property returns."
I stared at her.
"Without asking me?"
She swallowed.
"I didn't think you'd understand."
My chest tightened.
I wasn't a child.
I had an accounting degree.
And Denise was telling me I couldn't understand my own inheritance.
Dad stood.
"That's enough."
Denise looked at him.
"Arthur—"
"No."
He pointed toward the folder.
"You've had access to family property records for years. You've been moving money through a company you own. And now you're telling us you involved a consultant in Maya's trust without authorization."
Denise started crying.
"I was trying to help."
Dad shook his head.
"Then help us by giving Daniel every document."
She hesitated.
I watched her carefully.
Then she whispered:
"I can't."
My stomach tightened.
"Why not?"
Denise looked at Dad.
Her voice trembled.
"Because Richard has them."
Dad stared at her.
"And where is Richard?"
She swallowed.
May you like
Then said:
"He left the country last week."
