Chapter 7
I stared at Denise.
"Approved what?"
She looked down.
"The account."
My stomach tightened.
"What account?"
"The one Richard opened for the trust distributions."
I felt sick.
"You told him I approved it?"
She started crying.
"He said he'd spoken with you."
I shook my head.
"I've never met him."
Dad looked at Denise.
"Did you verify that?"
She lowered her eyes.
"No."
I stared at her.
For years, she'd demanded that I prove I was responsible.
Now she had repeatedly made decisions without verifying anything.
I felt exhausted.
Not just angry.
Exhausted.
Because every time we found one problem, another appeared.
Dad reached for my hand.
"Maya, we'll handle this."
I looked at him.
"I know."
But I wasn't sure I believed it.
The next day, Daniel arranged a meeting with the trust institution.
A woman named Rebecca Ellis greeted us.
She was in her forties, professional and calm.
After verifying my identity and legal interest in the trust, she explained the account records.
The disputed distributions had been sent to an account opened through an intermediary.
Several documents appeared inconsistent.
The institution had already restricted further transfers.
I exhaled.
"Can the money be recovered?"
Rebecca nodded cautiously.
"Some funds have been traced. Recovery depends on the investigation and the accounts involved."
I looked down.
Then asked:
"How much is still protected?"
Rebecca reviewed the records.
The property itself remained held through the trust.
Other investment balances were still intact.
The suspicious transactions affected a portion of the accumulated income.
I felt tears rise.
Mom's legacy hadn't disappeared.
Not completely.
Rebecca continued.
"We're also reviewing whether any transactions were processed without proper authorization."
I nodded.
Then she looked at me.
"Maya, I want you to know something."
I looked up.
"The purpose of a properly administered trust is to protect the beneficiary's interests."
My eyes filled.
"That's what Grandma wanted."
Rebecca smiled gently.
"Then we're going to work carefully to establish what happened."
After the meeting, Dad suggested lunch.
We went to a small diner near his office.
It was the place Grandma used to take me when I was little.
I ordered pancakes.
Dad ordered coffee and eggs.
For a while, we sat quietly.
Then he looked at me.
"How are you holding up?"
I thought carefully.
"Better than last week."
He smiled.
"Good."
I hesitated.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Why didn't you tell me about the trust when I turned eighteen?"
His expression changed.
He looked down at his coffee.
"I was afraid."
I frowned.
"Of what?"
"That you'd feel pressured by the money. That people would try to use you. That you'd lose the freedom to discover what you wanted from life."
I listened.
He continued.
"Your mother came from a wealthy family. She hated how people treated her differently when they learned about it."
I swallowed.
"I didn't know that."
Dad nodded.
"She wanted you to have choices without feeling defined by money."
I looked down.
"That makes sense."
Then I looked back at him.
"But keeping me uninformed didn't protect me."
His eyes filled.
"No."
I continued.
"It made it easier for other people to make decisions without me."
Dad nodded slowly.
"You're right."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he reached across the table.
"I'm sorry, Maya."
I squeezed his hand.
"I know."
He smiled sadly.
"From now on, no more secrets."
I nodded.
"No more secrets."
That evening, Tasha came to see me.
I was surprised when she knocked on my apartment door.
She stood outside wearing jeans and a simple blouse.
No designer handbag.
No expensive jewelry.
Just Tasha.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
I hesitated.
Then stepped aside.
She sat on my couch.
For several minutes, she stared at her hands.
Then she looked at me.
"I'm sorry."
I blinked.
"For what?"
She swallowed.
"For acting like you owed me a house."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"Mom kept telling me Arthur was giving you everything and leaving me out."
I looked down.
Tasha's eyes filled.
"I believed her."
I swallowed.
"Why?"
"Because I was jealous."
The honesty surprised me.
She wiped her cheeks.
"You had your dad. Even when he was busy, he showed up for you."
My chest tightened.
Tasha continued.
"My biological father barely called. Mom always said Arthur was supposed to make up for that."
I looked at her.
"But Dad did help you."
She nodded.
"He paid for my college. Helped me get my first car. Let me live at home while I saved money."
I waited.
Tasha started crying.
"And I still acted like it wasn't enough."
I felt something soften inside me.
She looked at me.
"I don't want your grandmother's house."
I stared at her.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"I want to earn my own."
For the first time, I smiled.
"That's a good goal."
Tasha laughed through her tears.
"I know."
Then she hesitated.
"Can we start over?"
I looked at her.
I wanted to say yes immediately.
But years of resentment couldn't disappear in one conversation.
"I'd like that," I said carefully.
"But we need honesty."
She nodded.
"Agreed."
We hugged.
It wasn't a perfect reconciliation.
But it was real.
After she left, I called Dad.
He sounded relieved.
"I'm glad you two talked."
I smiled.
"Me too."
Then he told me something unexpected.
Denise had agreed to provide investigators with all her records.
She'd also hired an attorney to help address her own responsibilities.
I felt conflicted.
Part of me was relieved.
Another part wondered whether she was only cooperating because she feared consequences.
Then Dad said:
"She's finally admitting how much she hid."
I looked down.
"Do you believe her?"
He hesitated.
"I believe she's frightened. Whether she's truly changed will take time."
I nodded.
That was the most honest answer he could have given.
A week later, Daniel called with another update.
The suspicious transfer of property had not been completed.
The deed records still supported the trust's ownership.
The account investigation had recovered some funds.
And authorities had identified Richard Lawson's actual location.
He hadn't disappeared overseas permanently.
He'd returned to the United States.
Then Daniel added:
"There's evidence he used similar tactics with several families."
My stomach tightened.
"Other victims?"
"Yes."
I looked at Mom's photograph on my desk.
Then I whispered:
"Then I hope they get their money back too."
But Daniel wasn't finished.
"There's one more thing, Maya."
I waited.
"The investigation uncovered messages between Richard and Denise."
My heart pounded.
"What messages?"
May you like
Daniel took a breath.
"Some appear to show Denise understood that certain documents were being submitted without your consent."
