Chapter 6
I ran downstairs with the paper in my hand.
Dad was standing near the dining table while Denise argued with Rebecca over the phone.
The moment he saw my face, he ended the call.
"Jasmine?"
I held out the paper.
"What's this?"
He took it.
His expression changed.
"Where did you find this?"
"Jordan."
Dad looked toward the staircase.
Jordan followed me down.
Denise saw the paper.
Her face went white.
"Where did you get that?"
I stared at her.
"Is this my mother's inheritance?"
Dad closed his eyes.
"Yes."
My heart shattered.
"You knew?"
He immediately shook his head.
"I knew about the inheritance. I didn't know Denise had documents related to it."
I stepped backward.
"Why didn't you tell me how much Mom left?"
Dad looked devastated.
"Because the account was meant to become fully available under the terms of the trust when you turned twenty-one. I wanted to explain everything when you were older."
"I'm nineteen, Dad."
"I know."
"Old enough to work two jobs. Old enough to pay tuition. But not old enough to know what my own mother left me?"
He lowered his eyes.
"You're right."
I began crying.
I didn't want to be angry with him.
He had protected me when Denise threw me out.
He had helped me dispute the transfers.
But another secret had been sitting inside our family.
And I was exhausted from discovering pieces of my own life one at a time.
Dad pulled out a chair.
"Please sit down."
I remained standing.
"Tell me everything."
He nodded.
"Your mother had a life insurance policy and a small investment portfolio. After she died, I established a trust for you."
I swallowed.
"How much was in it?"
"The original amount was approximately one hundred and thirty thousand dollars. It grew over time."
I stared at the paper.
"One hundred eighty-four thousand?"
"That was the balance shown on a statement from earlier this year."
Denise suddenly spoke.
"Marcus, you're making this sound much worse than it is."
We both turned toward her.
She continued.
"That money was sitting there doing nothing."
I felt sick.
"Doing nothing?"
"It could have helped the family."
Dad's expression hardened.
"Denise, stop."
She ignored him.
"Jordan needed opportunities too. Nobody ever set up a trust for him."
I stared at her.
"My mother died."
Denise looked away.
"That's not what I meant."
"My mother died, and the money she left was supposed to help me."
Tears streamed down my face.
"You think Jordan deserves it because he didn't get one?"
Denise didn't answer.
Dad stepped closer.
"Have you accessed that trust?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Have you tried?"
"No."
Jordan spoke from behind me.
"Mom."
Denise turned sharply.
"Stay out of this."
He didn't move.
"Tell the truth."
Her face twisted.
"Jordan, go upstairs."
"No."
I stared at him.
It was the first time I had ever heard him openly refuse her.
"Mom, tell them about Raymond."
Dad stiffened.
Denise looked terrified.
"Jordan, I am warning you."
He swallowed.
"Raymond said the trust could be used as security for a business loan."
My stomach turned.
Dad took the paper from me.
"Did he access the trust?"
Jordan shook his head.
"I don't know."
Dad looked at Denise.
"Answer me."
She remained silent.
He called Rebecca again.
Within an hour, she arranged an urgent review with the institution managing my mother's trust.
The next morning, Dad and I sat across from a trust administrator named Melissa Grant.
Melissa had managed family accounts for nearly twenty years.
She looked calm, professional, and completely unaware that the conversation might decide whether my future still belonged to me.
Dad explained our concerns.
Melissa reviewed the trust agreement and verified my identity.
Then she examined the recent account activity.
Her expression changed.
"Mr. Carter, there have been requests for information concerning this account."
Dad leaned forward.
"From whom?"
Melissa checked the records.
"An individual identifying herself as your authorized representative."
My stomach tightened.
"Denise?"
Melissa nodded.
"That name appears in the correspondence."
Dad stared at her.
"Was she authorized?"
"No. The documentation provided did not establish that authority."
I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"So she couldn't take the money?"
Melissa looked at me carefully.
"The trust assets remain intact."
I started crying.
Dad immediately reached for my hand.
But Melissa wasn't finished.
"There was also an attempted request for a loan-related asset verification."
Dad's expression hardened.
"What does that mean?"
"Someone sought confirmation that these assets could support a proposed financial arrangement."
"Did the institution approve it?"
"No."
I covered my face.
Relief and anger crashed into me at the same time.
My mother's inheritance was safe.
But Denise had tried to reach it.
She had tried to use the money my mother left me for her own business.
Dad gently squeezed my hand.
"You're okay."
I shook my head.
"I don't feel okay."
He didn't argue.
Melissa explained that additional security measures would be added and that Rebecca could help us review the trust provisions.
She also confirmed that I could receive the information I was legally entitled to as a beneficiary.
For the first time, I understood what my mother had left me.
Not just the amount.
But the intention.
She had wanted me to have choices.
The chance to study.
The chance to build a career.
The chance to begin adulthood without being forced to depend on people who might use that dependence against me.
That afternoon, Dad took me to my grandmother's house.
My mother's mother, Grandma Rose, lived in a small brick home surrounded by flowering bushes.
She hugged me the moment I entered.
Dad had already told her what happened.
She didn't ask why I was crying.
She simply held me.
After a while, she brought out an old wooden box.
Inside were photographs, letters, and a small silver necklace.
She placed the necklace in my palm.
"Your mother wanted you to have this when you started college."
I stared at it.
A tiny heart pendant hung from the chain.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Mom holding me as a baby.
I began sobbing.
Grandma Rose wrapped her arms around me.
"She was so proud of you, sweetheart."
I shook my head.
"She never got to see me grow up."
Grandma touched my cheek.
"But she knew you would."
I looked at her.
"How?"
"Because she believed in the person you were becoming, even when you were little."
I held the necklace tightly.
For years, Denise had made me feel like my dreams were selfish.
But my mother had spent her final years making plans to protect those dreams.
That evening, Dad received a call from Rebecca.
She had obtained confirmation that Raymond Price's lending proposal included an attempted reliance on assets Denise did not control.
The documents contained statements about my trust and our house.
But Rebecca had found something else.
A signature on one of the applications appeared to belong to Dad.
He examined the copy.
Then he said quietly, "I never signed this."
I looked at him.
"Another forgery?"
Rebecca answered.
"That is what we need investigators to examine."
Dad stared at the document.
Then his expression changed.
"There's one thing I don't understand."
"What?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Denise was trying to get money from your savings, your inheritance, and our house."
I nodded.
"Why would she need that much?"
Rebecca was silent for a moment.
Then she spoke.
"Because according to the financial records we've located, D&J Lifestyle Solutions may owe a substantial amount to a private lender."
Dad tightened his grip on the phone.
"How substantial?"
Rebecca took a breath.
"Nearly three hundred thousand dollars."
May you like
And suddenly, I realized Denise hadn't been trying to buy Jordan a phone.
She had been trying to keep something much bigger from collapsing.
