Chapter 3
I couldn't stop staring at my mother.
"Did you do something to Dad?"
Her head snapped up.
"Malik!"
"Answer me!"
She pressed a hand against her chest.
"How could you ask me that?"
I felt tears burning my eyes.
"Because Arthur just said Dad was worried about his medication!"
My mother looked toward the attorney.
"You had no right to tell him!"
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Richard specifically instructed me to disclose the concern if his medical records raised questions."
Uncle James stepped forward.
"What medical records?"
Arthur opened his folder.
"Richard had been experiencing unusual dizziness and weakness."
I remembered.
Three weeks before he died, Dad had nearly collapsed during breakfast.
My mother insisted he was exhausted.
She said the company was putting too much pressure on him.
Dad had laughed it off.
But later that morning, I'd found him sitting alone in the garage.
He looked pale.
I asked whether he was okay.
He hugged me.
Then he said something strange.
"Son, always make sure you know what's going into your body."
At the time, I thought he meant I should eat healthier.
Now the memory terrified me.
Arthur continued.
"Richard believed some of his prescription medication had been replaced or altered."
Nia covered her mouth.
"Was it?"
"We don't know."
My mother exhaled sharply.
"Because it never happened!"
Arthur looked at her.
"Then an independent review should establish that."
She shook her head.
"Richard was paranoid toward the end."
I stared at her.
"You never told me that."
"Because I didn't want you worrying!"
I felt something inside me break.
My mother had controlled every conversation about Dad's final weeks.
She chose which relatives visited.
She handled his appointments.
She told me not to bother him with questions.
And after he died, she arranged the funeral before I could fully understand what had happened.
I turned to Arthur.
"Can we investigate?"
He nodded.
"Yes. But we need medical records, pharmacy records, and professional review."
I swallowed.
"Then do it."
My mother suddenly grabbed her purse.
"I'm leaving."
Uncle James blocked her path.
"Diane, we need to talk."
She pushed past him.
"Get out of my way!"
I watched her hurry toward the ballroom doors.
For a moment, I wanted to chase her.
Then Nia slipped her hand into mine.
I looked at her face.
She was crying silently.
And I realized that while I was grieving my father all over again, she was learning that her mother's memory had been stolen too.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
She shook her head.
"You didn't do this."
"But my family did."
Nia looked at me.
"You're not responsible for their choices."
I wanted to believe her.
But the guilt was unbearable.
Arthur asked us to meet him at his office the next morning.
He promised to explain the trust documents and the changes to Dad's will.
Nia and I drove home in silence.
I didn't return to my mother's mansion.
Instead, I went to the small apartment I'd rented near college.
Nia sat on the couch while I paced.
"Two million dollars," I whispered.
She looked down.
"My grandmother worked nights cleaning offices when I was little."
I stopped walking.
"She did?"
Nia nodded.
"She told me my mother hadn't left much."
Her voice broke.
"Sometimes she skipped dinner so I could eat."
I sat beside her.
She stared at her hands.
"My grandmother used to tell me that my mother was brilliant."
I squeezed her fingers.
"She was."
Nia began crying harder.
"She said Mom helped people build things. I thought she meant she worked in an office."
I pulled her into my arms.
"She built something incredible."
Nia rested her head against my chest.
"But somebody took it from her."
I held her tighter.
"We're going to find out who."
That night, I barely slept.
At dawn, my phone rang.
Uncle James.
I answered immediately.
"Hello?"
"Malik, are you alone?"
I sat up.
"Yeah. What's wrong?"
He hesitated.
"I found something in your father's storage unit."
My heart accelerated.
"What?"
"Files."
I rubbed my eyes.
"What kind of files?"
"Financial records. Copies of old contracts."
I sat straight.
"Where are you?"
"At the storage facility."
"Don't leave."
He lowered his voice.
"Malik, there's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The unit was already open when I arrived."
I froze.
"Open?"
"The lock had been cut."
I jumped out of bed.
"Call the police!"
"I already did."
I heard movement through the phone.
Then James whispered.
"Someone's coming."
The call ended.
I stared at my screen.
"Uncle James?"
Nothing.
I called back.
No answer.
My hands began shaking.
Nia appeared in the bedroom doorway.
"What's happening?"
I grabbed my keys.
"Something's wrong."
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at the storage facility.
Two police cars were parked outside.
An ambulance stood near the entrance.
My heart nearly stopped.
I ran toward the officers.
"My uncle is inside!"
One of them stopped me.
"Sir, what's his name?"
"James Carter!"
The officer's expression changed.
"He's being treated by paramedics."
I felt my knees weaken.
"What happened?"
"We're still investigating."
Nia grabbed my arm.
We followed the officer toward the ambulance.
James sat inside with a bandage across his forehead.
He looked shaken.
But alive.
"Uncle James!"
He looked up.
"Malik."
I grabbed his hand.
"What happened?"
He swallowed.
"Someone shoved me into a shelf."
I stared at him.
"Who?"
"I didn't see their face."
He winced.
"They were wearing a dark hooded jacket."
My stomach twisted.
"Did they take the files?"
James looked at me.
"Some."
My heart sank.
"But not everything."
He reached into his coat.
And pulled out a folded document.
"I hid this before they got inside."
I opened it.
At the top was my father's company letterhead.
Below it was a list of payments.
The largest transfer was labeled:
R. MORGAN — SPECIAL CONSULTING SERVICES.
I frowned.
"Who's R. Morgan?"
James looked terrified.
"Your mother's brother."
I stared at him.
"Uncle Robert?"
He nodded.
"But Malik, that's not the worst part."
I looked down at the paper.
Near the bottom was another name.
Diane Carter.
Beside it was a date.
The day before my father's death.
And a transfer of five hundred thousand dollars.
My hands turned cold.
I looked at James.
"What was this payment for?"
May you like
His voice trembled.
"That's what Richard was trying to find out when he died."
