Chapter 4
I closed the curtains and called Malcolm.
“Someone is watching my house.”
His voice sharpened.
“Who?”
“I think it's Curtis.”
“Tasha's brother?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“I recognize the car.”
“Don't go outside.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
Isaiah was in the kitchen helping me make sandwiches.
I looked toward him and lowered my voice.
“Malcolm, I don't want him frightened.”
“I'll call Curtis.”
“No. Let me call Claire first.”
The lawyer answered immediately.
After I explained what I had seen, she advised me to record the vehicle's details from inside my home and contact the police if I felt threatened.
I photographed the SUV through the window.
Then I called the nonemergency police number.
By the time an officer arrived, the car was gone.
The officer took my statement.
He explained that the vehicle's presence alone didn't establish a crime.
But he encouraged me to document any repeated activity.
I understood.
I wasn't interested in creating drama.
I wanted proof.
That afternoon, Malcolm finally came home.
He arrived at my door carrying a worn suitcase.
The moment Isaiah saw him, he froze.
“Daddy?”
Malcolm dropped the suitcase.
“Come here, son.”
Isaiah ran into his arms.
Malcolm held him so tightly that I watched his shoulders shake.
“I missed you,” Isaiah whispered.
“I missed you too.”
“Are you leaving again?”
Malcolm pulled back.
“Not right now.”
“Promise?”
My son looked toward me.
Then he looked at Isaiah.
“I promise I'm staying while we figure things out.”
He noticed the new backpack beside the sofa.
His smile faded.
“Did Grandma buy all this?”
Isaiah nodded.
“Even the shoes.”
Malcolm looked down at his son's feet.
I saw him notice the old sneakers by the door.
The split soles.
The tape.
The worn laces.
Something changed in his face.
He sank onto the couch.
“Isaiah, come sit with me.”
My grandson obeyed.
“Has Tasha been buying things for Jordan and Ava but not for you?”
Isaiah looked at me.
I nodded gently.
“Tell Daddy the truth.”
He twisted his fingers together.
“Sometimes.”
Malcolm waited.
“She says they're growing faster.”
“What about your shoes?”
“She said I should stop complaining.”
My son pressed a hand over his mouth.
Then Isaiah whispered, “Did I do something bad?”
Malcolm started crying.
Not quietly.
He cried with the kind of shame that comes when a person finally sees something they should have noticed long ago.
“No, son.”
“Then why doesn't she like me?”
Malcolm pulled him close.
“Nothing is wrong with you.”
I stepped into the kitchen because I couldn't bear to watch without crying myself.
A few minutes later, Malcolm joined me.
“I failed him.”
I turned around.
“Then change what happens next.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
“Don't make promises you can't keep.”
“I know.”
We spent the next hour reviewing the documents.
Malcolm confirmed that the account transfers weren't authorized.
He also showed me an email from the bank about the suspicious loan application.
Claire arranged an urgent meeting the following morning.
But before we could discuss the next step, Tasha began calling.
Malcolm ignored the first three calls.
On the fourth, he answered.
“Where are you?” she demanded.
“At Mom's.”
“Why?”
“Because Isaiah is here.”
“Bring him home.”
“Not tonight.”
There was silence.
Then she said, “You don't get to decide that alone.”
“I'm his father, Tasha.”
“And I'm his stepmother.”
“Then explain why he had no school supplies.”
“Oh, here we go again.”
“Explain the bank transfers.”
Her voice dropped.
“What transfers?”
“You know exactly what I'm talking about.”
“I don't appreciate being accused.”
“I didn't accuse you. I asked you a question.”
“Your mother is poisoning you against me.”
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“Tasha, did you use Isaiah's money?”
She didn't answer.
Then I heard a man's voice in the background.
Curtis.
I couldn't understand every word.
But I heard him say, “Hang up.”
Malcolm looked at me.
“Tasha, is your brother there?”
“Yes. So what?”
“Why was he outside Mom's house?”
Another silence.
Then the call ended.
Malcolm stared at his phone.
“Something is very wrong.”
Before I could respond, Isaiah appeared in the doorway.
“Daddy?”
Malcolm quickly changed his expression.
“Yes, buddy?”
“Can I sleep here?”
“Of course.”
Isaiah looked relieved.
Then he asked, “Can you stay too?”
Malcolm glanced at me.
I nodded.
That night, my son slept on the sofa while Isaiah slept in my guest room.
Around midnight, I found Malcolm sitting at the kitchen table.
He had Nicole's photograph in his hands.
“She would hate me,” he whispered.
I sat beside him.
“Nicole would want you to protect your son.”
“I thought sending money was enough.”
“It isn't.”
“I know that now.”
He looked down.
“Tasha told me Isaiah needed discipline. She said he was becoming selfish.”
“Your son is afraid to ask for food, Malcolm.”
His face crumpled.
“I didn't know.”
“You should have.”
The truth hurt him.
I let it.
Because love without responsibility had left Isaiah alone in a house full of adults.
The next morning, Claire met us at her office.
Mr. Whitcomb joined by video call.
He confirmed that Nicole's trust was separate from the insurance account.
He also explained that the trust had safeguards requiring independent trustee approval before significant distributions.
“Has any money been taken?” Malcolm asked.
“Not from the trust,” Mr. Whitcomb answered. “The attempted change was flagged.”
I felt a moment of relief.
Then Claire placed another document on the table.
It was a copy of the rejected submission.
At the bottom were two signatures.
One appeared to be Malcolm's.
The other was presented as mine.
I stared.
“I never signed this.”
Claire nodded.
“We expected you to say that.”
Malcolm leaned closer.
“Mom, why would they need your signature?”
Mr. Whitcomb answered.
“Because Nicole named Evelyn as Isaiah's successor guardian nominee in the documents governing her estate.”
I looked at him.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Nicole had trusted me with her son.
Even after death.
Claire pointed to the forged signature.
“Someone may have attempted to impersonate both of you.”
Malcolm stared at the page.
Then his phone buzzed.
A message from Tasha.
I watched his face drain of color as he read it.
He turned the screen toward me.
May you like
The message said:
“If you take Isaiah away from me, I'll make sure everyone knows what you did the night Nicole died.”
