Chapter 7
I had always thought Grandma was rich because she owned a beautiful house.
It wasn't enormous.
But it had a wide front porch, tall oak trees, and a garden filled with roses.
She lived there for forty years.
When she died, Dad and Aunt Renee sold the property according to her wishes.
I assumed that was where most of her money came from.
But Dad was now telling me there was another inheritance.
I stared at him.
"What did Grandma leave?"
He opened the folder.
"Shares in a family-owned property company."
I frowned.
"What company?"
"Carter Family Holdings."
I had never heard of it.
Dad explained that Grandma and her brother had invested in several small properties decades earlier.
Over time, the investments grew.
Some were sold.
Others were rented.
Grandma had kept her ownership interest separate from the money she left in my college trust.
I leaned forward.
"How much is it worth?"
Dad hesitated.
"The valuation isn't final."
I stared at him.
"Dad."
He took a breath.
"Potentially several hundred thousand dollars."
My mouth fell open.
I couldn't understand.
Why hadn't anyone told me?
Dad continued.
"Your grandmother arranged for her interest to pass to you when you reach adulthood."
I stared at the papers.
"Why me?"
His expression softened.
"Because she believed in you."
My eyes filled.
I remembered Grandma sitting beside me at the kitchen table.
Teaching me how to balance a checkbook.
Explaining why saving money mattered.
Telling me to be careful when someone offered something that sounded too good to be true.
At the time, I thought she was simply giving advice.
Now I wondered whether she had been preparing me for something.
Dad continued.
"Raymond apparently discovered the ownership records."
I looked up.
"How?"
"We don't know yet."
My stomach tightened.
"Did Mom know?"
Dad looked sad.
"She says she didn't know the full details."
I stared at him.
I wanted to believe her.
But I couldn't.
Not anymore.
Dad reached across the table.
"Maya, I want you to understand something."
I nodded.
"Money doesn't decide your worth."
I looked down.
"I know."
He squeezed my hand.
"Your grandmother didn't love you because you would inherit something."
Tears filled my eyes.
"She loved you because you were you."
I started crying.
Dad pulled me into his arms.
For a moment, I felt like a little girl again.
Safe.
Loved.
Protected.
But the feeling didn't last.
That evening, Aunt Renee received a phone call.
She answered while preparing dinner.
I was sitting at the kitchen island with Tasha.
Aunt Renee listened quietly.
Then her expression changed.
"Who is this?"
A pause.
"How did you get my number?"
I looked up.
She stepped into the hallway.
But I could still hear her voice.
"No. You will not contact Maya."
My stomach tightened.
Aunt Renee returned a moment later.
Her face was pale.
"Who was that?" Dad asked.
She looked at me.
"Victor Lang."
I felt cold.
The investor from Hawaii.
Dad stood.
"What did he want?"
"He asked to speak with Maya."
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Aunt Renee shook her head.
"He claimed he wanted to clear up a misunderstanding."
Dad looked furious.
"Did he threaten you?"
"Not directly."
She took a breath.
"But he said Raymond had promised him access to the Carter family investment."
I stared at her.
"Access to what?"
Dad's jaw tightened.
"My daughter's inheritance."
Aunt Renee nodded.
I felt sick.
Grandma's money had become something strangers were fighting over.
And I was the person they kept trying to control.
Dad contacted the investigator handling the case.
He reported the call.
Then he told me something important.
"Maya, if anyone contacts you about money or documents, tell me immediately."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"And don't meet anyone alone."
"I won't."
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I kept thinking about Grandma.
About the trust.
About Raymond.
About Mom.
Then I remembered the notebook Tasha found.
REMOVE BEFORE DEPARTURE.
I wondered whether Raymond had planned something worse than sending me to Aunt Lorraine.
I didn't want to believe it.
But I couldn't ignore the possibility.
The next morning, I asked Dad to take me to Grandma's old neighborhood.
He looked surprised.
"Why?"
"I just want to see her house."
He studied me.
Then nodded.
We drove there together.
The new owners had repainted the front door.
But the oak trees were still standing.
I looked at the porch.
I remembered Grandma sitting in her rocking chair.
I remembered her calling me sunshine.
I remembered the smell of peach cobbler drifting through the open windows.
I started crying.
Dad put his arm around me.
"I miss her too."
I nodded.
Then I looked toward the side garden.
Something caught my attention.
A small stone bench.
Grandma used to sit there with me.
She called it our thinking place.
I smiled through my tears.
"Can we walk over?"
Dad nodded.
We approached the current owner, who was working in the yard.
Dad explained who we were.
She kindly allowed us a few minutes near the garden.
I sat on the bench.
For a moment, I closed my eyes.
I could almost hear Grandma.
Maya, sweetheart, never let someone else's greed make you forget your own value.
I opened my eyes.
Dad sat beside me.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said.
I looked at him.
"What?"
"I made a mistake."
My stomach tightened.
"What mistake?"
"I let your mother control too much without checking."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"I thought trusting my wife meant I didn't need to ask questions."
I looked down.
"But I was wrong."
His voice broke.
"And you paid the price."
I reached for his hand.
"Dad—"
He shook his head.
"No. I need to say this."
I waited.
He looked into my eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't protect you sooner."
Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I hugged him.
For a long time, we sat together.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
But the preview caught my attention.
Your grandmother knew Raymond was dangerous.
I froze.
Another message appeared.
She left evidence.
My heart pounded.
I showed Dad.
His expression changed.
A third message arrived.
Ask Renee about the green box.
I stared at the screen.
The green box.
I remembered something.
Grandma kept a small green metal box in her bedroom closet.
She told me it contained important memories.
After she died, I assumed Aunt Renee had taken it.
I looked at Dad.
"Do you know where Grandma's green box is?"
He frowned.
"No."
I called Aunt Renee.
She answered.
"Hey, sweetheart."
I took a breath.
"Aunt Renee, where is Grandma's green box?"
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered, "Who told you about that?"
My heart stopped.
I looked at Dad.
"Aunt Renee?"
She sounded frightened.
"Maya, listen carefully."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"Don't tell your mother about that box."
I stared at the road.
"Why?"
Aunt Renee took a shaky breath.
"Because your grandmother left something inside that could explain why Raymond targeted you."
I couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, "And Maya, there's a letter in there addressed to you."
I felt tears rising.
"From Grandma?"
"Yes."
My heart pounded.
May you like
Aunt Renee continued.
"I think it's time you read it."
