Chapter 5: The Woman on the Phone
“Say that again,” David demanded.
The woman on the phone was breathing hard.
“I said Naomi is in danger. You need to get her away from that house.””
I clutched my daughter closer.
“Who are you?””
There was a pause.
Then the woman answered.
“My name is Evelyn. I'm your aunt.””
I had never heard that name in my life.
My mother had been an only child, or so I'd always believed. There were no holiday visits from mysterious relatives, no family reunions, no stories about cousins or grandparents.
Just my mother and me.
And an empty space where my father should have been.
“That's impossible,” I said.
Evelyn's voice softened.
“Your mother didn't want you to know I existed.””
“Why?””
“Because I helped her hide the truth about your father.””
David pressed the phone closer to his ear.
“Evelyn, where are you?””
“Not somewhere safe enough to explain this in person.””
“Then tell us what you know.””
“I know that the sale agreement isn't the only document they've forged. I know the money from the estate was transferred into an account that should never have existed. And I know someone has been waiting for Naomi to sign a second document.””
I looked at Terrence.
He avoided my eyes.
“What second document?”” I asked.
Evelyn answered immediately.
“A guardianship agreement.””
The foyer seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
“What?””
“They intend to argue that you're medically and emotionally unfit to manage your inheritance after childbirth. If they obtain your signature on the guardianship agreement, they'll claim you're voluntarily surrendering control of your financial interests.””
I felt sick.
Terrence's expression hardened.
“That's insane.””
Evelyn heard him.
“Is that Terrence?””
He said nothing.
“Tell him I said hello,” she continued.
“And tell him his father never intended for him to be the only beneficiary.””
Terrence grabbed the phone from David.
“Who are you?””
“Someone who remembers the boy who used to steal money from his father's desk.””
Terrence's face went white.
“That's enough.””
“Is it? Because I remember the night your father discovered the missing account records. I remember your mother crying in the kitchen. And I remember you telling everyone that the documents had burned in a fire.””
Patricia suddenly covered her mouth.
Terrence ended the call.
The silence was immediate.
I stared at him.
“You knew about the account.””
He shoved the phone into David's hand.
“That woman is a liar.””
“Then why did you hang up?””
“Because she's trying to manipulate us!””
“Us?”” I repeated.
“There is no us right now.””
He looked at the baby in my arms.
“Naomi, you're exhausted. You've barely slept. You need to sit down, and we can discuss this rationally.””
I almost laughed.
He had spent years using that voice on me. Calm. Reasonable. Patient enough to make me question whether my anger was justified.
But the money in my hand had changed something.
So had the forged signature.
I wasn't confused anymore.
I was furious.
“I want a lawyer who doesn't work for your family,” I said.
Mr. Brooks nodded.
“An excellent idea.””
Terrence pointed at him.
“You're not taking her anywhere.””
Mr. Brooks raised his eyebrows.
“I'm not taking her anywhere. Mrs. Carter is an adult, and she can decide where she wishes to go.””
“She lives here.””
“Does she?””
Terrence's mouth tightened.
I looked around the foyer.
The expensive chandelier. The polished floor. The staircase Patricia had stood beside while my husband tried to buy my silence for three hundred dollars.
I had lived in that mansion for four years.
I'd helped choose the furniture. I'd selected the paint colors. I'd carried groceries through the kitchen and assembled the nursery upstairs.
But suddenly I couldn't remember whose name appeared on the deed.
“Terrence,” I said slowly, “whose house is this?””
He didn't answer.
Patricia stepped forward.
“It's a family property.””
“That's not what I asked.””
“Your mother-in-law is trying to protect her family.””
I turned toward her.
“From me?””
Her face reddened.
“Don't be ridiculous.””
“Then tell me whose name is on the deed.””
She glanced at Terrence.
He stared at the floor.
Mr. Brooks removed another paper from his briefcase.
“I can answer that question.””
He laid the document on the table.
The deed listed a holding company as the legal owner.
Below the company's name was a registered address.
My mother's former estate.
I stared at the page.
“This company is connected to my mother's property?””
“Directly,” Mr. Brooks said.
“The holding company was established using funds from a trust your mother controlled. Its original purpose was to protect several family assets from creditors.””
I frowned.
“Then why does Patricia live here?””
“Because your mother permitted her to occupy the property under a private arrangement.””
Patricia's face tightened.
“She invited us.””
“Initially,” Mr. Brooks replied.
“But the occupancy agreement was conditional.””
“What conditions?””
“That the property's ownership would not be transferred without the trust's approval, and that no resident could claim an ownership interest based solely on living there.””
Patricia grabbed the edge of the table.
“That agreement expired.””
Mr. Brooks removed a second sheet.
“Did it?””
She snatched the document and scanned it.
Her lips parted.
“No.””
“What does it say?”” I asked.
She held the page against her chest.
“Nothing.””
Mr. Brooks extended his hand.
“Please return the document.””
She refused.
David stepped closer.
“Patricia, give it back.””
For a second, I thought she might tear it.
Instead, she dropped it onto the table as though it had burned her fingers.
I picked it up.
The agreement had been renewed six months earlier.
The signature authorizing the renewal belonged to my mother.
And the termination clause was clear: any attempt to fraudulently transfer trust property would immediately trigger a review of the occupants' legal rights.
I looked at Patricia.
“You knew the sale could put you out of this house.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Your mother promised me security.””
“My mother gave you permission to live here. That's not the same as owning it.””
“You don't understand what she owed me!””
“Then explain it.””
Patricia's shoulders began to shake.
For the first time, her smugness disappeared completely.
“Your mother took something from me,” she said.
“Something I spent my entire life trying to recover.””
“What?””
She looked at David.
Then at Mr. Brooks.
Finally, she whispered, “Your grandmother's original land deed.””
Mr. Brooks stiffened.
David swore under his breath.
I looked between them.
“What land deed?””
David rubbed a hand across his face.
“Your grandmother owned land before your mother inherited the estate. The original deed included a parcel that was later absorbed into the surrounding development.””
“How much land?””
Mr. Brooks answered.
“Enough to make the estate substantially more valuable than the current appraisal suggests.””
Patricia gave a bitter laugh.
“Substantially? The development rights alone could be worth tens of millions.””
My knees nearly buckled.
Three million dollars had been the number everyone kept repeating.
But my mother had apparently protected something much larger.
“Why would my mother hide that?”” I asked.
“Because the original deed established ownership rights that someone else wanted to erase,” Mr. Brooks said.
David looked toward the open door.
“And because your mother discovered that Terrence's father had been using the property records to conceal another transaction.””
I turned to Terrence.
“Your father was involved in this?””
He finally looked up.
“I was a child.””
“That's not an answer.””
“I didn't know what he was doing.””
“Then why did you sell the estate?””
His jaw clenched.
“Because I needed the money.””
“For what?””
He looked at Patricia.
She shook her head sharply.
“Don't you dare.””
Terrence ignored her.
“The company was collapsing. My father's debts hadn't disappeared when he died. The creditors were coming after us, and the only way to stop them was to get the property sold before the trust review.””
Mr. Brooks stared at him.
“You attempted to transfer an asset you didn't own to pay debts that may not even be enforceable against the trust.””
Terrence's voice cracked.
“You don't understand. If the creditors discover what's in that account, they'll take everything.””
“What account?”” I demanded.
He said nothing.
David stepped forward.
“The account Evelyn mentioned.””
Terrence's eyes darted toward the door.
I followed his gaze.
A black sedan had stopped outside the open entrance.
A Black woman in a cream suit stepped out, carrying a thick document folder.
She walked toward the mansion without hesitation.
Mr. Brooks recognized her first.
“Judge Morrison?””
The woman stopped at the threshold.
“I'm not here as a judge, Mr. Brooks. I'm here as the appointed trustee's representative.””
She turned toward me.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to read this notice carefully.””
She placed the folder on the table.
Inside was a court order freezing the estate transaction.
Beneath it was a separate document bearing my name.
A guardianship petition.
And at the bottom, beside the request to remove my control over the family trust, was a statement claiming that I had suffered a severe psychological breakdown after giving birth.
I looked at Terrence.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
The representative opened the folder to the final page.
“There's one more thing you should know. This petition was filed yesterday, before the property sale was even completed.””
She pointed to the signature of the person who had sworn that I was incapable of managing my own affairs.
Patricia Ellis.
My mother-in-law.
I looked at Patricia.
“You tried to take my baby from me?””
“No!”” she cried.
“That isn't what the petition says!””
“Then why does it say I need a guardian?””
“Terrence told me it was only a financial form!””
I turned toward my husband.
He stood motionless, his face empty.
The representative gathered the documents.
“Mrs. Carter, the court has scheduled an emergency hearing for tomorrow morning.””
“Tomorrow?””
“Yes. And if the petition is upheld, your trust could be placed under temporary control before the fraudulent sale is fully investigated.””
Mr. Brooks took a slow breath.
“Then we need to prepare immediately.””
The representative nodded.
“There's another complication.””
She opened a separate envelope and removed a photograph.
It showed my mother standing outside a bank, holding the arm of a man whose face had been partially turned away from the camera.
On the back, someone had written a date.
Three days before my mother died.
The representative slid it toward me.
“The man beside your mother is the person who opened the secret account.””
I stared at the photograph.
Then I recognized the watch on his wrist.
I'd seen it on Terrence's arm the morning he'd handed me the three hundred dollars.
But the man in the photograph was older.
May you like
And he had Terrence's exact face.
The representative whispered, “Your husband may not have been acting alone.””
