Chapter 4
The Lawyer Who Helped Her Lie
I didn't sleep.
At seven the next morning, I was already sitting in Rachel Coleman's office.
The forged documents lay between us.
My mother sat beside me.
Malik was safely at her house with my aunt Vivian.
I wanted him nowhere near the legal confrontation that was coming.
Rachel studied the signature.
Then looked at me.
"You're absolutely certain you didn't sign this?"
I almost laughed.
"Rachel, I would remember authorizing someone to take money from my son's trust."
She nodded.
"I believe you."
I leaned forward.
"Then tell me how this happened."
Rachel opened her laptop.
"We contacted the court clerk this morning."
My heart pounded.
"And?"
"The guardianship petition was submitted yesterday afternoon."
I felt sick.
"Yesterday?"
She nodded.
"But it hasn't been granted."
I exhaled.
Rachel continued.
"We've filed an objection and notified the court that the documents appear to contain forged signatures and inaccurate statements."
I rubbed my forehead.
"What happens now?"
"The court will review the allegations."
She looked directly at me.
"And we're requesting an expedited hearing."
My mother squeezed my hand.
I nodded.
Then Rachel turned another page.
"There's something I need you to see."
It was a letter from Gerald Palmer.
The attorney Denise had visited.
The letter stated that I had voluntarily agreed to give Denise temporary control over Malik's financial affairs.
My stomach twisted.
"That's a lie."
Rachel nodded.
"We're going to challenge it."
I looked at her.
"Can we speak to Gerald?"
"Yes."
She paused.
"But I recommend we do it through counsel and preserve the communication."
I agreed.
That afternoon, Rachel arranged a formal meeting.
Gerald arrived wearing a dark suit.
He smiled when he saw me.
"Marcus."
I didn't smile back.
He looked uncomfortable.
"Good to see you."
I stared at him.
"Did you meet my twelve-year-old son yesterday?"
His expression changed.
"Denise brought him in."
I leaned forward.
"Without telling me."
Gerald adjusted his tie.
"She represented that she had your authorization."
Rachel placed the forged document on the table.
"Mr. Palmer, did you personally witness Marcus sign this?"
Gerald hesitated.
Then shook his head.
"No."
I felt anger rising.
"Then why does your office claim I signed it?"
He looked toward Rachel.
"My assistant received the signed page."
Rachel remained calm.
"From whom?"
Gerald swallowed.
"Mrs. Williams."
I stared.
"And you didn't verify it?"
He looked away.
Rachel continued.
"Did you explain the documents to Malik?"
Gerald hesitated.
"He was present."
"That's not what I asked."
Gerald rubbed his forehead.
"My understanding was that Denise had discussed everything with him."
I felt disgust rise.
"My son told you he didn't understand."
Gerald looked startled.
I leaned forward.
"And you let him sign anyway."
He said nothing.
Rachel closed the folder.
"We'll be referring these concerns to the appropriate authorities."
Gerald's face went pale.
"Now, let's not make this adversarial."
I almost laughed.
"You helped someone try to take control of my child's money."
He raised his hands.
"Marcus, I didn't know—"
I interrupted.
"That's the problem."
My voice trembled.
"You didn't care enough to find out."
The meeting ended shortly afterward.
Rachel advised me not to contact Denise directly.
She also recommended that I document the dinner incident and arrange an independent assessment of Malik's well-being.
I agreed to everything.
But the hardest conversation was still waiting.
That evening, I sat beside Malik on his bed.
He wore clean pajamas.
His gray hoodie lay folded on the chair.
I had washed it.
But I couldn't bring myself to put it away.
It reminded me of the moment I finally saw what Denise had been doing.
"Son?"
He looked up from his book.
"Yeah, Dad?"
"Can we talk?"
He nodded.
I sat beside him.
"First, I want you to know something."
His expression tightened.
I continued.
"You are not in trouble."
He relaxed slightly.
I took a breath.
"Did Denise ever ask you to keep secrets from me?"
Malik looked down.
I waited.
Finally, he nodded.
"Sometimes."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of secrets?"
He twisted his fingers.
"She said you were stressed."
I swallowed.
"And?"
"She said if I complained, you'd get sick."
I felt cold.
My son continued.
"She said you worked hard because I cost too much money."
My chest tightened.
I reached for his hand.
"Malik, listen."
He looked up.
"You are never responsible for my health or my happiness."
His eyes filled.
I continued.
"I work because I'm your father."
I smiled through tears.
"And taking care of you is one of the best parts of my life."
He began crying.
I pulled him into a hug.
Then he whispered something that made my heart stop.
"Dad, she told me Mom wouldn't have wanted me."
I froze.
"What?"
He pulled back.
"She said my real mom left me because I was difficult."
I couldn't breathe.
Elena.
The woman who had loved our son more than anything.
The woman who had fought through months of illness because she wanted another day with him.
Denise had used her death to hurt him.
I felt tears streaming down my face.
"Malik."
He looked terrified.
"Is that true?"
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice broke.
"Your mother loved you every second of her life."
He began sobbing.
I held him tightly.
"She didn't choose to leave you."
I kissed his forehead.
"And if she could be here right now, she'd tell you how proud she was."
Malik cried against my chest.
I stayed with him until his breathing slowed.
Then he whispered, "Dad, there's something under my mattress."
I frowned.
"What?"
He reached beneath the bed.
Then pulled out a small notebook.
Its cover was blue.
He handed it to me.
"Grandma told me to write things down."
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Pages of dates.
Rules.
Punishments.
Things Denise had said.
Then I reached the final entry.
It was written the night before the dinner.
DENISE SAID IF I DON'T SIGN THE PAPERS, SHE'LL MAKE SURE DAD HAS AN ACCIDENT LIKE MOM.
I stopped breathing.
Because my wife hadn't merely threatened to separate us.
May you like
She had threatened my life.
And she'd used my dead wife's memory to make my son believe her.
