Chapter 4 - What My Mother Hid
I had always believed the worst thing my father could do was choose Jordan over me.
I was wrong.
The worst thing was watching him put my future on the line to cover up his own failure.
That night, Daniel advised me not to confront my father alone.
We gathered every company record we could find.
Maya contacted our bank.
Our accountant began reviewing unusual transactions.
Daniel arranged for a forensic accounting specialist to trace where the money had gone.
By midnight, we knew enough to understand that this wasn't a misunderstanding.
It was a plan.
My father had been investing heavily in a real estate development outside Atlanta.
He had borrowed money against his business.
When the development collapsed, he kept borrowing.
Then his lenders began demanding repayment.
Instead of admitting he was in trouble, he looked for another asset.
Mine.
At six the next morning, my mother called.
I almost ignored her.
Then I answered.
"Hello?"
"Nia."
She sounded exhausted.
"Can you come to the house?"
"No."
"Please."
I stared out my apartment window.
"Mom, did you know about the loan?"
Silence.
That was becoming the answer to everything.
"Claire," I said, using her first name, "did you know?"
She started crying.
"I knew your father needed money."
"How much?"
"He said he needed help."
"Did you know he was using Northstar?"
She hesitated.
My chest tightened.
"Mom."
"Not at first."
I shut my eyes.
"When did you find out?"
"Last week."
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
"And you said nothing?"
"He promised everything would be fixed before you noticed."
I felt physically sick.
Before I noticed.
Not before he hurt me.
Before I noticed.
"Why are you calling?"
My mother took a shaky breath.
"Because there's something else."
I didn't answer.
She continued.
"It's about your grandmother."
My eyes opened.
"What about Grandma?"
"I can't explain over the phone."
I wanted to hang up.
But the mention of Evelyn changed everything.
"Meet me somewhere public," I said.
An hour later, I sat across from my mother at a small coffee shop.
She looked ten years older than she had the day before.
Her hair was pulled into a loose bun.
There was no makeup on her face.
She kept twisting her wedding ring.
I didn't hug her.
I sat down and waited.
She pushed a brown envelope toward me.
"I found these in your father's study."
I opened it.
Inside were copies of old financial statements, a handwritten letter, and a document bearing my grandmother's signature.
My breath caught.
"What is this?"
"Your grandmother established a trust shortly before she died."
I looked up.
"I know. She left me money to help build Northstar."
My mother shook her head.
"That wasn't all."
I pulled out the first document.
My eyes moved across the page.
There was my name.
There was Jordan's name.
And there was a reference to my grandmother's house.
The old brick house where I had spent nearly every summer of my childhood.
My grandmother had owned it outright.
After her death, Dad told me it had been sold to cover medical bills.
I had been devastated.
He said there was nothing left.
But the document in my hands said otherwise.
"Mom," I whispered, "what is this?"
She couldn't look at me.
"Your grandmother placed the house in a trust for you."
I stared at her.
"She what?"
"She wanted you to have somewhere that was always yours."
I felt tears gathering.
"Where is the house?"
My mother's lips trembled.
"Your father still controls the property."
I shook my head.
"He said it was sold."
"I know."
"Was it?"
She shook her head.
I covered my mouth.
All those years.
All those nights when I missed Grandma so much that I drove past the old neighborhood just to feel close to her.
The house had been there.
And my father had lied.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
My mother began crying harder.
"Marcus said the trust paperwork was complicated. He said he was protecting the property until you were older."
"I'm twenty-four."
"I know."
"Grandma died four years ago."
"I know."
I pushed back my chair.
"Then what else don't I know?"
My mother reached for my hand.
I pulled it away.
"Your father borrowed against the house."
My chest tightened.
"How much?"
"Three hundred thousand dollars."
I stared at her.
"He used Grandma's house as collateral?"
She nodded.
"Without asking me?"
Another nod.
I stood.
My mother grabbed the edge of the table.
"Nia, please don't leave."
I looked down at her.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Help us."
I almost couldn't believe it.
"Help you?"
"Your father is going to lose the business."
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"He tried to take mine."
"He was desperate."
"So he made me his solution?"
She covered her face.
Then she whispered something that stopped me.
"I signed a paper too."
I slowly sat back down.
"What paper?"
"He told me it was necessary to protect the house."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you sign my name?"
She shook her head quickly.
"No. Never."
"Then what?"
"I witnessed a signature."
I stared at her.
"Whose?"
She was crying so hard she could barely speak.
"Yours."
The coffee shop suddenly felt unbearably quiet.
My mother had watched someone forge my signature.
And then she had certified that it was real.
"Mom..."
"I was scared of him."
I looked at her.
She whispered, "He said everything would fall apart if I refused."
I wanted to scream.
But all I could manage was a question.
"What about me?"
Her face crumpled.
I leaned forward.
"When you were scared of losing your house, your marriage, your lifestyle... did you ever think about what I was going to lose?"
She couldn't answer.
I stood again.
This time, she didn't stop me.
At the door, I turned around.
"If you want to help me, tell the truth."
She looked up.
"Even if it means testifying against Dad?"
"Especially then."
I walked outside.
My phone rang before I reached my car.
It was Daniel.
"Nia, we found something."
I gripped the phone.
"What?"
"The property records for your grandmother's house."
My heart started racing.
"Is it still in the trust?"
"Yes, but someone filed documents attempting to move it into a new holding company."
I closed my eyes.
"Whose company?"
Daniel paused.
"Jordan Hamilton Holdings."
I almost dropped my phone.
My father hadn't just tried to give my brother my car.
May you like
He had tried to give him my business.
And now, he was trying to give him the only home my grandmother had left me.
