Chapter 7
I stared at the phone.
"Following her?"
Grace didn't answer immediately.
I could hear her breathing.
Then she spoke quietly.
"Nia, your mother had been worried for weeks."
My stomach tightened.
"About what?"
"Someone was interfering with her work."
I frowned.
My mother had been a financial analyst.
Arthur told me she worked long hours and loved numbers.
I remembered her sitting at the dining table with folders spread around her.
Sometimes she let me press buttons on her calculator.
But I knew almost nothing about her professional life.
Grace continued.
"Lorraine discovered irregularities involving a business account."
I closed my eyes.
"Whose business?"
Grace hesitated.
"Arthur's company."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"She believed someone had been moving money without authorization."
I stared at the wall.
Arthur's company.
The house.
The trust.
The transfers.
Everything seemed connected.
I swallowed.
"Was Arthur involved?"
Grace answered carefully.
"Your mother didn't know. She was trying to find out."
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"Did she tell the police?"
"She had arranged a meeting with an attorney."
"When?"
Grace's voice cracked.
"The morning after the accident."
I felt dizzy.
Marcus noticed my expression.
He moved closer.
"Nia?"
I raised a hand.
Grace continued.
"Lorraine was driving home from my house when the crash happened."
I swallowed.
"Was someone actually following her?"
"We never proved it."
That answer mattered.
Grace wasn't claiming certainty.
She was telling me what Lorraine believed.
I took a slow breath.
"What happened afterward?"
Grace explained that the accident had been investigated.
The official conclusion involved dangerous road conditions and a collision with another vehicle.
No criminal connection was established.
But Lorraine's concerns about the financial records never received the attention Grace believed they deserved.
I looked down.
"So Evelyn wasn't responsible for the crash?"
Grace paused.
"I don't have evidence that she was."
I exhaled.
I hadn't realized how desperately I needed that answer.
I didn't want to invent a murder mystery around my mother's death.
I wanted facts.
Grace continued.
"But Evelyn became involved in the family shortly afterward."
I frowned.
"How?"
"She was working with Arthur's business accountant."
My stomach tightened.
That was new.
Arthur always said he'd met Evelyn through a mutual friend.
Grace explained that Evelyn had been employed in an administrative role connected to Arthur's company before they began dating.
After Lorraine died, she gradually became more involved in managing household paperwork.
I stared at Marcus.
He looked confused.
I continued listening.
Grace told me she'd discovered discrepancies involving Lorraine's estate documents.
She tried raising concerns with Arthur.
But he became defensive.
Evelyn accused Grace of trying to take control.
The family conflict escalated.
Then Arthur stopped allowing her to see me.
I felt sick.
"Did you keep any documents?"
Grace answered immediately.
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
"What kind?"
"Copies of letters, financial records, and correspondence with the attorney Lorraine planned to meet."
I swallowed.
"Can I see them?"
"Of course."
We arranged to meet in person.
Grace lived about three hours away.
Marcus offered to drive.
I accepted.
The next morning, we left early.
I barely slept the night before.
I kept imagining my mother driving through the rain.
Frightened.
Holding secrets.
Trying to get home.
I wondered whether she'd known she might never see me again.
The thought nearly broke me.
When we reached Grace's house, I recognized her before she opened the door.
She had Lorraine's eyes.
Warm brown.
Kind.
Familiar.
For one moment, I couldn't move.
Then Grace stepped forward.
"Nia?"
I began crying.
She opened her arms.
And I ran into them.
We held each other for what felt like forever.
She smelled like vanilla and lavender.
The same scents I vaguely remembered from childhood visits.
"Oh, my baby," she whispered.
I cried harder.
"I thought you forgot me."
She shook her head.
"Never."
Marcus stood quietly behind us.
Grace eventually invited us inside.
Her living room was filled with family photographs.
And there, on the wall, was a picture of my mother holding me as a newborn.
I stopped walking.
My breath caught.
"That's me."
Grace smiled through tears.
"Yes."
I moved closer.
Lorraine looked radiant.
Her hair was pulled into a loose bun.
Her face was tired but happy.
She was looking down at me with so much love that I felt my chest ache.
I touched the frame.
"I've never seen this."
Grace stood beside me.
"I have hundreds more."
I turned toward her.
"Hundreds?"
She nodded.
"Your mother loved taking pictures."
I began crying again.
For years, I'd treasured the handful of photographs Arthur kept.
Now I was standing inside a house filled with memories nobody had allowed me to see.
Grace brought out several albums.
We spent hours looking through them.
Birthday parties.
Family picnics.
Christmas mornings.
My mother's graduation.
Her wedding.
Her laughter.
Her life.
Then Grace placed a sealed folder on the table.
Her expression changed.
"This is what Lorraine left with me before the accident."
I stared at it.
The folder was old.
Its corners were worn.
Across the front, in my mother's handwriting, were three words.
FOR MY DAUGHTER.
I reached toward it.
My hands trembled.
Grace stopped me gently.
"Before you open it, there's something you need to understand."
I looked up.
May you like
She swallowed.
"Your mother believed someone was trying to take money that belonged to you."
