Chapter 5
I met Patricia at a small restaurant outside Atlanta.
I hadn't seen my aunt in years.
She looked older.
Her natural curls were streaked with silver.
But the sharpness in her eyes hadn't changed.
She stood when I approached.
"Marcus."
I nodded.
"Aunt Patricia."
We hugged awkwardly.
Then sat down.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Finally, she looked at me.
"How's your father?"
My throat tightened.
"He's in the hospital."
Her expression changed.
"What happened?"
I told her.
Not every detail.
But enough.
The medication concerns.
The stolen money.
My mother being restrained.
Vanessa's involvement.
By the time I finished, Patricia looked horrified.
"Oh, Marcus."
I studied her face.
"Did you know?"
She shook her head.
"No."
I wanted to believe her.
But trust had become difficult.
I took out a copy of the trust document.
"What do you know about this?"
Patricia stared at it.
Then closed her eyes.
"Your grandfather's trust."
I nodded.
"Dad said the land was divided."
She shook her head.
"Not exactly."
I leaned forward.
"Then explain."
She took a breath.
"When Daddy died, the land remained in a family trust. Your father was appointed trustee."
I nodded.
"Why him?"
"He was the oldest."
I stared at her.
"What happened to your share?"
She looked down.
"I received a payment years ago."
"How much?"
"Enough that I thought it settled everything."
I frowned.
"Did it?"
She shook her head.
"Later, I learned the property was worth far more than I was told."
My stomach tightened.
"Did Dad lie to you?"
"I believe he concealed information."
I looked at her carefully.
"Do you have proof?"
She hesitated.
"Some."
I waited.
Then she opened her purse.
She pulled out a folder.
Inside were old letters.
Property valuations.
And correspondence with an attorney.
I studied the documents.
The values had increased dramatically over time.
A highway expansion.
New commercial development.
Potential zoning changes.
The land my grandfather purchased for farming had become extremely valuable.
Patricia watched me.
"I spent years asking your father for a proper accounting."
I nodded.
"He said you were trying to steal from him."
Her eyes filled.
"I know."
I stared at her.
"He told everyone that."
She looked down.
I felt sick.
For years, I'd accepted Dad's version of the argument.
Now I realized I might have been unfair to my aunt.
But then another thought struck me.
"How did Vanessa get involved?"
Patricia hesitated.
I leaned forward.
"Aunt Patricia."
She swallowed.
"She contacted me last year."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"She said your father was ready to sell the land."
I stared at her.
"Did you believe her?"
"At first."
I shook my head.
"Why?"
"She showed me documents."
My stomach tightened.
"What documents?"
Patricia took out another page.
It appeared to be a letter from Dad.
Authorizing preliminary discussions about a sale.
I looked at the signature.
It resembled his.
But after everything I'd discovered, I didn't trust appearances.
"Did you speak to Dad directly?"
Patricia looked ashamed.
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
"Because we hadn't spoken in years."
She wiped her cheeks.
"Vanessa said he didn't want personal contact."
I stared at her.
The same isolation.
The same manipulation.
Vanessa had used the family's old conflict to keep people from comparing stories.
Patricia continued.
"She said the sale would finally resolve the trust dispute."
I nodded.
"And Raymond?"
"He was introduced as a property consultant."
My jaw tightened.
"Did you receive money?"
Patricia shook her head.
"No."
I studied her.
"Did you sign anything?"
She hesitated.
"An agreement to review the proposed sale."
My stomach tightened.
"Anything else?"
"No."
I took a breath.
"Did you know Vanessa was taking money from Mom and Dad?"
Patricia looked horrified.
"Absolutely not."
I wanted to believe her.
But the evidence needed review.
I asked her to speak with Camille and provide the documents.
She agreed.
Then she said something unexpected.
"Marcus, I need to apologize."
I looked up.
"For what?"
"For letting anger keep me away from your father."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"I should have kept trying to speak to him directly."
I nodded slowly.
"We all made mistakes."
Her eyes filled.
"But Vanessa used those mistakes."
I looked down.
That was true.
The divisions in our family had made us easier to manipulate.
Dad and Patricia weren't speaking.
I was working constantly.
Mom trusted Vanessa with household matters.
And Vanessa apparently understood exactly where everyone was vulnerable.
After the meeting, I returned to the hospital.
Dad was more alert.
He sat upright in bed.
When he saw me, he smiled weakly.
"Son."
I sat beside him.
"Dad, we need to talk."
His expression changed.
"About what?"
"Grandpa's land."
He closed his eyes.
For a moment, I thought he might refuse.
Then he whispered, "Patricia."
I nodded.
"I met her today."
Dad looked away.
"She's still angry."
"Maybe. But she says the trust wasn't handled fairly."
He sighed.
"Your grandfather left complicated instructions."
I leaned forward.
"Then explain them."
Dad looked tired.
"The land was supposed to remain in the family."
I nodded.
"Why did you tell me it was divided?"
He hesitated.
"Because I didn't want you involved in the fighting."
My chest tightened.
"That wasn't your decision to make."
Dad looked at me.
I continued.
"Vanessa used that secrecy."
His eyes filled.
"I know."
I swallowed.
"Did she ask you to sell?"
He nodded.
"She said there was a buyer."
"Did you agree?"
"No."
Relief washed through me.
Dad continued.
"She kept bringing papers."
My stomach tightened.
"What papers?"
"Authorizations. Agreements. Things I didn't understand."
He looked ashamed.
"I told her I wanted my lawyer."
I nodded.
"What did she say?"
Dad's eyes filled.
"That I was becoming confused."
My heart broke.
The same lie she'd told Mom.
I took his hand.
"Dad, you're not responsible for what she did."
He shook his head.
"I should've called you."
I looked down.
"Maybe. But I should've been around more."
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Then Dad whispered something that made me look up.
"Marcus, she didn't just want the land."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
He looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
"She wanted control of the trust."
I felt cold.
"How?"
Dad swallowed.
"She asked me to name her as replacement trustee."
I stared at him.
Then he added something even worse.
"She said if I refused, she'd make sure your mother couldn't stay here anymore."
My hands tightened.
And suddenly, I understood why Mom had been chained to the table.
May you like
Vanessa hadn't simply been cruel.
She'd been trying to break my parents' resistance.
