Chapter 6
The attorney's office was silent when I arrived the next morning.
I sat across from Mrs. Bennett, the lawyer who had helped my mother establish the children's trust years earlier.
She placed several documents on the desk.
"Marcus, I need you to look at these carefully."
I leaned forward.
The first page was a request to add Claire as an authorized contact for the trust.
The second was a draft financial authorization.
The third was a letter asking whether funds could be transferred to a different institution.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Did she send these?"
Mrs. Bennett nodded.
"Her name appears on the correspondence."
I stared at the signature.
It looked like mine.
Almost.
But the final letters were wrong.
I had spent years signing business contracts.
I knew my own handwriting.
"That's not my signature."
Mrs. Bennett nodded.
"We suspected that."
My mouth went dry.
"Someone forged it?"
"That is a possibility. We will need a formal examination and additional records before reaching that conclusion."
I looked down at the documents.
For months, Claire had told me the children were irresponsible.
She accused Maya of lying.
She called Noah manipulative.
She repeatedly insisted that I needed to stop treating them like babies.
Now I was staring at paperwork that suggested she had also been trying to gain access to money meant for them.
"How much is in the trust?" I asked quietly.
Mrs. Bennett checked the current statement.
"Approximately one hundred and twenty thousand dollars."
I closed my eyes.
My mother had worked hard to leave something meaningful for her grandchildren.
Danielle had also contributed to the accounts before her death.
The money represented years of savings and sacrifice.
I opened my eyes.
"Has any money been taken?"
"Not according to the records we've reviewed. The accounts remain secure."
Relief washed over me.
Mrs. Bennett continued.
"We can help you preserve the evidence and make the appropriate reports."
I nodded.
"Do it."
She studied my face.
"Marcus, I also want you to understand something."
I looked up.
"Protecting the children doesn't require you to solve every part of this immediately."
My eyes filled with tears.
"I know."
But I didn't feel that way.
I felt like every minute mattered.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Maya on the floor beside her broken flute.
Every time I heard Noah's voice, I remembered how frightened he sounded in the recordings.
I wanted to go backward.
I wanted to find the first moment Claire had hurt them and stop it.
But I couldn't.
I could only move forward.
After leaving the attorney's office, I called Rachel.
She was at home with the children.
"How are they?"
"They're okay," she said. "Maya practiced for almost an hour."
I smiled faintly.
"And Noah?"
"He's building something in the garage with the spare cardboard boxes."
I laughed softly.
"That sounds like him."
Rachel hesitated.
"Marcus, Maya asked whether you're going to the recital."
My chest tightened.
"Of course I am."
"She wants you to promise."
I closed my eyes.
"Tell her I'll be there."
Rachel was quiet.
Then she said, "She needs to hear it from you."
I nodded.
"You're right."
When I returned home, Maya was sitting on the stairs.
She looked up immediately.
"Dad?"
I knelt beside her.
"Sweetheart, I heard you had a question."
She swallowed.
"Are you going to the recital?"
I took her hands.
"Yes."
Her eyes filled with tears.
"Even if Claire calls?"
I felt my heart break.
"Even if Claire calls."
"What if something happens at work?"
"I've already cleared my schedule."
She looked at me carefully.
"Promise?"
I smiled through tears.
"I promise."
She threw her arms around me.
I held her tightly.
And for the first time in days, I felt like I was giving her something that truly mattered.
Not a replacement flute.
Not money.
Something much more important.
Certainty.
That afternoon, the children's first counseling session took place.
I sat in the waiting room while Maya and Noah met individually with the therapist.
I was nervous.
I worried they would be frightened.
I worried they would blame themselves.
I worried that the counselor would discover things I wasn't prepared to hear.
When the sessions ended, the therapist invited me into her office.
She explained that both children showed signs of anxiety connected to criticism, threats, and unpredictable punishment.
She emphasized that healing would take time.
I nodded.
"Whatever they need."
She looked at me.
"They need a consistent sense of safety."
I swallowed.
"And they need to know that telling the truth won't lead to punishment."
I thought about the times I had told Maya to apologize to Claire.
I thought about how often Noah had become quiet when his stepmother entered the room.
My eyes filled with tears.
"I failed them."
The therapist spoke gently.
"You missed important signs. What matters now is taking responsibility and changing how you respond."
I nodded.
"I will."
That evening, I sat with Maya and Noah at the kitchen table.
We made a new family rule.
No one would be punished for telling the truth about something that frightened or hurt them.
If someone felt unsafe, they could come to me, Rachel, or another trusted adult.
And if I didn't understand something, I would listen before making a decision.
Noah looked at me.
"Even if it's about you?"
I smiled sadly.
"Especially if it's about me."
He nodded.
Maya reached for my hand.
"Can we make another rule?"
"Of course."
She thought for a moment.
"No one gets to say music is stupid."
I laughed through tears.
"Agreed."
Noah grinned.
"And no one gets to break my model airplanes."
I smiled.
"Definitely agreed."
For the first time in days, all three of us laughed.
But the next morning brought another difficult discovery.
A police investigator contacted me about the documents.
She had reviewed the initial report and wanted to speak with Claire.
She also asked whether Claire had made any statements about taking the children's money.
I hesitated.
Then I remembered something Noah had said.
Claire used to tell him that one day we would all live somewhere different.
Somewhere without Maya's music.
Somewhere without my mother's belongings.
I looked toward the hallway.
And suddenly, a terrible question entered my mind.
May you like
Had Claire been planning to take the trust money and leave us?
Or had she intended to make sure my children were gone before I discovered what she was doing?
