Chapter 5
The next morning, Dad took me to meet Mr. Collins.
Lauren came too.
I was nervous.
The attorney's office was on the fourth floor of a building downtown.
There were large windows and shelves filled with legal books.
Mr. Collins greeted me warmly.
"Ava Bennett?"
I nodded.
He smiled.
"Your mother spoke about you often."
My throat tightened.
"She did?"
"Very often."
I stared at him.
He looked toward Dad.
"Naomi was proud of her daughter."
I felt tears rise.
Then we sat around a conference table.
Mr. Collins placed a laptop in front of him.
He explained that Mama had been assisting a financial review involving Diane's charitable foundation.
She'd identified payments that didn't appear to match the work documented in the foundation's records.
Some payments went to vendors.
Others went to accounts whose purposes were unclear.
My father's construction company appeared in the records because it had legitimately worked on a building renovation.
Dad looked tense.
"Was my company involved in wrongdoing?"
Mr. Collins shook his head.
"Not according to the records I've reviewed so far."
I exhaled.
Dad did too.
The attorney continued.
"Naomi believed someone had used legitimate contracts to disguise unrelated payments."
Lauren looked horrified.
"Was my mother involved?"
Mr. Collins paused.
"Her access and approvals are relevant. But we need to distinguish what the records show from what remains unproven."
I appreciated that.
After everything Diane had said, I wanted someone to speak carefully.
Not angrily.
Not dramatically.
Just honestly.
Mr. Collins connected the flash drive to an isolated computer used for reviewing evidence.
Several folders appeared.
Financial Reports.
Emails.
Meeting Notes.
And one labeled AVA.
My heart stopped.
"That's my name."
Mr. Collins nodded.
"Would you like to see what's inside?"
I looked at Dad.
He squeezed my hand.
"Your choice."
I nodded.
Mr. Collins opened the folder.
Inside were photographs.
Videos.
And several audio recordings.
My eyes filled.
Mama had saved memories for me.
Not just paperwork.
He opened a photograph.
It showed me at seven years old, sitting on Mama's shoulders in the park.
I laughed through tears.
"I remember that day."
Dad smiled sadly.
"You made her carry you all the way to the car."
I nodded.
"Because my shoes hurt."
He laughed.
"That's right."
We looked through several pictures.
Then Mr. Collins opened a video.
Mama appeared on the screen.
She was sitting at our kitchen table.
Her hair was pulled into a high bun.
She wore a yellow sweater.
I could hear the refrigerator humming behind her.
"Hi, my sweet girl."
My heart broke.
"Mama."
Dad put his arm around me.
Mama smiled.
"If you're watching this, I hope you're having a wonderful day."
She paused.
Then laughed softly.
"I know your dad probably forgot to remind you to drink water."
I laughed through tears.
Dad shook his head.
"She knew me too well."
Mama continued.
"I want you to remember that being brave doesn't mean you never cry."
My eyes filled.
"It means you keep being kind, even when life gets difficult."
I leaned closer.
"Most importantly, Ava, I want you to know that nobody gets to decide how much you matter."
I covered my mouth.
The video ended.
For several minutes, I couldn't speak.
Lauren quietly handed me a tissue.
Mr. Collins waited.
Then he asked whether we wanted to continue reviewing the financial material.
Dad nodded.
The attorney opened an email chain.
It showed correspondence between Mama and Diane.
At first, the messages were professional.
Mama requested receipts.
Diane promised to send them.
Then the tone changed.
Diane accused Mama of interfering.
She warned that asking too many questions would damage people's reputations.
One message made my stomach tighten.
"Stop digging into matters that don't concern you."
Dad read it twice.
Lauren stared at the screen.
"That's my mother's email address."
Mr. Collins nodded.
The next message was worse.
Diane wrote that Mama should consider what public accusations might mean for her family.
I felt cold.
"She was threatening us?"
Mr. Collins answered carefully.
"The message could reasonably be understood as pressure or intimidation."
Dad looked furious.
Lauren covered her face.
Then the attorney opened a final email.
It had been sent two days before Mama's accident.
Mama wrote that she had copied all relevant records and intended to report the discrepancies to the foundation's board.
Diane replied:
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
I felt my chest tighten.
I looked toward Dad.
"Did Mama report it?"
Mr. Collins nodded.
"She sent a preliminary notice to the board."
"What happened?"
He paused.
"She died before the scheduled meeting."
Silence filled the office.
I stared at the screen.
Two days.
Mama had been two days away from presenting what she'd found.
Then she was gone.
I wanted to believe the timing was only a terrible coincidence.
But I couldn't stop imagining her driving home, worried about those threats.
I looked at Mr. Collins.
"Did Diane cause the accident?"
He shook his head.
"I have no evidence of that."
I nodded slowly.
It wasn't the answer I wanted.
But it was the truth.
Dad reached for my hand.
"Baby, we won't assume things we can't prove."
I swallowed.
"Okay."
Mr. Collins continued.
He explained that the foundation records could be reviewed by independent professionals and, if appropriate, authorities.
He had already preserved copies of the materials.
The goal was to establish what happened to the money and whether anyone had committed wrongdoing.
Lauren sat very still.
Then she spoke.
"I want the board to see everything."
Dad looked at her.
"Lauren..."
She shook her head.
"My mother shouldn't get special treatment because she's my mother."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"If she stole money meant for people who needed help, she needs to answer for it."
My throat tightened.
For the first time since the wedding, I felt hope.
Not because I wanted Diane destroyed.
But because someone close to her was willing to choose the truth.
Then Mr. Collins opened another document.
"This is the part I wanted Marcus to review privately."
Dad leaned forward.
"What is it?"
The attorney hesitated.
"Naomi had also identified an insurance-related payment connected to the foundation."
My heart began pounding.
"What insurance payment?"
Mr. Collins looked toward Dad.
"It was processed shortly after Naomi died."
Dad frowned.
"Why would the foundation receive an insurance payment after her accident?"
May you like
Mr. Collins took a breath.
"That's exactly what we need to understand."
