Chapter 6
The second document was a proposed transfer authorization.
It instructed the trust administrator to move one hundred and fifty thousand dollars into a private investment account.
The receiving account was connected to a business called Heritage Family Holdings.
I'd never heard of it.
I stared at Daniel Brooks.
"Who owns that company?"
He looked at his notes.
"That's what we're investigating."
Rachel leaned forward.
"The transfer wasn't completed."
I exhaled.
"But someone tried."
Daniel nodded.
"Yes."
I rubbed my face.
"How long has this been going on?"
"The earliest document we've identified is dated approximately six weeks ago."
Six weeks.
For six weeks, Denise had been trying to gain access to money meant for my son's future.
During those same weeks, Malik had been leaving for school hungry.
I felt something inside me turn cold.
Rachel noticed.
"Marcus, stay focused."
I looked at her.
"I am."
"We need evidence, not assumptions."
I nodded.
She was right.
I wanted answers.
But I also wanted the truth to hold up under scrutiny.
Daniel continued reviewing the documents.
Then he asked, "Do you recognize this name?"
He pointed to a signature.
Patricia Williams.
My stomach tightened.
"That's Denise's sister."
Rachel looked up.
"Is she involved in financial services?"
"She runs a small consulting business."
Daniel made a note.
"The receiving company appears to have connections to her."
I stared at the page.
Patricia had visited our home frequently.
She helped Denise shop.
She babysat Kayla and Jordan.
And she always seemed unusually interested in Malik's trust.
I remembered her joking at Christmas.
"That boy's going to be richer than the rest of us."
I'd laughed.
Now the memory made me uncomfortable.
Daniel closed the folder.
"We'll need to verify the ownership structure and preserve the account records."
I nodded.
"Do whatever you need to do."
That evening, Angela came over again.
I told her about the suspicious transfer request.
She shook her head.
"Marcus, this is bigger than family favoritism."
"I know."
She looked toward the stairs.
"How's Malik?"
I sighed.
"Quiet."
"Is he eating?"
"Yes."
"Sleeping?"
"Not well."
Angela's expression softened.
"He needs time."
I nodded.
"I know."
Then she asked, "Have you thought about counseling?"
"I already scheduled an appointment."
She smiled sadly.
"Good."
Later that night, I sat beside Malik on his bed.
He was reading a graphic novel.
His room was filled with basketball posters and drawings.
A small photograph of Aisha sat beside his lamp.
"Hey, buddy."
He looked up.
"Hey, Dad."
"How was dinner?"
"Good."
I smiled.
"Enough food?"
He nodded.
Then he hesitated.
"Can I ask something?"
"Anything."
He looked down.
"Are Kayla and Jordan going to hate me?"
My heart tightened.
"Why would they?"
"Because Denise is mad."
I sat beside him.
"Denise is responsible for her own actions. You haven't done anything wrong."
He swallowed.
"But they're her kids."
"They're also your family, buddy."
He looked at me.
"Even if you and Denise get divorced?"
I thought carefully.
"Relationships may change, but that doesn't mean you have to stop caring about people."
He nodded.
Then he whispered, "Jordan used to hide crackers in my backpack."
I felt tears filling my eyes.
"He did?"
Malik nodded.
"He said nobody should be hungry at school."
I smiled sadly.
"Sounds like Jordan has a good heart."
Malik looked relieved.
"Can I still talk to him?"
"We'll work out what's safe and appropriate."
He nodded.
Then he hugged me.
For several minutes, I held him.
When I finally stood, he whispered, "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for believing me."
My throat tightened.
"I should've listened sooner."
He looked confused.
"That's okay."
I shook my head.
"No, son. Adults should take responsibility when they miss something important."
I kissed his forehead.
"I'm going to keep doing better."
He smiled.
Then he returned to his book.
The next morning, Malik began counseling with Dr. Rebecca Miles.
She specialized in helping children recover from emotional abuse and family conflict.
After the first session, she spoke with me privately.
"Marcus, Malik has learned to associate asking for basic needs with punishment."
I closed my eyes.
"What can I do?"
"Be predictable. Be patient. Let him know he can ask for food, comfort, and help without fear."
I nodded.
"Anything else?"
"Don't make him responsible for adult conflicts."
I looked at her.
"I won't."
She smiled gently.
"He has a strong relationship with you. That's an important protective factor."
For the first time in days, I felt a little hope.
But that hope didn't last long.
That afternoon, Rachel called.
"Marcus, we identified the ownership of Heritage Family Holdings."
My heart began pounding.
"Who owns it?"
"Patricia Williams has a controlling interest."
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Rachel continued.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The company received several transfers from other accounts connected to family trusts."
I sat upright.
"Other families?"
"Potentially."
My stomach tightened.
"Are you saying Denise and Patricia have done this before?"
"We don't know that yet."
Rachel paused.
"But investigators may want to examine a broader pattern."
I stared out my office window.
For months, I'd believed Denise simply resented Malik.
Now I wondered whether she'd seen his inheritance as an opportunity.
And the thought made me furious.
Then Rachel spoke again.
"Marcus, one more thing."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"Patricia has contacted your wife."
I frowned.
"About what?"
Rachel hesitated.
"According to information provided to us, they're discussing how to challenge your authority as trustee."
May you like
I closed my eyes.
The battle over my son's future was far from over.
