Chapter 6: The Deal Made Behind My Back

I didn't open the envelope immediately.

I just stared at it.

My mother's brother.

Uncle Peter.

The same man who had laughed at my graduation ceremony.

The same man who had pretended to be busy checking his phone while my father called me useless.

The same man who had once told me that business was too complicated for someone like me.

I slowly lifted my eyes.

“Why would Uncle Peter want Riverside?””

Thomas folded his hands.

“Because Riverside owned something worth considerably more than its construction contracts.””

“What?””

“The land beneath the company's original warehouse.””

I frowned.

“That's just an industrial property.””

“Not anymore.””

Thomas pulled out a property valuation report.

“Four years ago, the city approved a redevelopment plan for that district. The warehouse sits inside the new commercial development zone.””

I looked at the valuation.

My stomach dropped.

The property was worth approximately $4.6 million.

I looked again.

“Why wasn't this on the company's financial statements?””

Thomas gave me a tired smile.

“That's what I've been trying to find out.””

I turned another page.

There were purchase documents, valuation reports, and correspondence between my father and a company called Carter Holdings.

The registered director was Peter Bennett.

My uncle.

I felt the room tilt slightly.

“So Dad planned to sell Riverside to him?””

“He planned to transfer the valuable assets into a separate company, then leave Riverside with its outstanding debts.””

Martin looked up.

“Do we have documentation of that arrangement?””

Thomas nodded.

“Some of it.””

He pointed toward the envelope.

“Those are copies of the correspondence I recovered before Richard cut off my access.””

I picked up the first email.

Peter,

Once the warehouse property is transferred, the construction business can be sold separately. Maya doesn't need to know about the redevelopment valuation until the transaction is complete.

Richard.

I read the sentence twice.

My father hadn't merely wanted my shares.

He had wanted to sell the most valuable asset in the company without my knowledge.

And he had planned to do it with my uncle.

I looked toward Martin.

“Can they do that?””

“Not without the appropriate approvals,” he replied.

“And based on the ownership structure we've reviewed, your authorization would likely be required for the proposed transaction.””

Thomas nodded.

“Which is why Richard tried to remove you from the ownership structure.””

I leaned back.

Everything suddenly connected.

The insults.

The pressure.

The attempted share transfer.

The sudden accusations about missing money.

My father hadn't simply been trying to silence me.

He had been trying to get rid of the one person who could stop him.

My phone rang.

Mom.

I stared at the screen.

Then I answered.

“Maya?””

Her voice was unusually quiet.

“Where are you?””

“Still at the office.””

“Your father is furious.””

“I can imagine.””

“Your uncle is coming over tonight. Richard says you need to come home.””

I looked at Thomas.

“Why?””

“Because there's a family matter we need to discuss.””

I almost laughed.

“Mom, if it's about Riverside, speak to my attorney.””

“Don't make this more difficult than it needs to be.””

“I'm not the one who transferred company money into Blake's account.””

She went quiet.

Then she whispered:

“Your father says Thomas is lying.””

I closed my eyes.

“Mom, did you know about Carter Holdings?””

Silence.

“Mom?””

“I don't know anything about business arrangements.””

“That wasn't my question.””

Her breathing became uneven.

Then she said something that made my blood run cold.

“Peter told me the warehouse sale was already approved.””

I sat upright.

“Who approved it?””

“Richard said you had signed the documents.””

I looked at the envelope.

“What documents?””

“I don't know, Maya. I saw your name.””

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Did you see my signature?””

“I... I think so.””

“Mom, where is the document?””

“I don't have it.””

“Who does?””

She hesitated.

Then she whispered:

“Your uncle.””

The call ended.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

Thomas watched me carefully.

“What happened?””

I told him.

His expression darkened.

“Then we need to see that document.””

Martin gathered his papers.

“If there's an unauthorized transfer instrument, we'll need to preserve the original and have it examined.””

I looked at the envelope.

“Could someone have forged my signature?””

Martin didn't answer immediately.

“It's possible. We shouldn't speculate until we see the document.””

Thomas stood.

“I'll contact the attorney who handled the original property records.””

I nodded.

Then I opened my laptop and searched my archived email.

I remembered something.

Two years earlier, my father had asked me to sign a stack of documents for a routine company insurance renewal.

I'd been exhausted.

I'd signed several pages without reading every line.

Could one of those pages have been something else?

I searched for the date.

There it was.

An email from Richard.

Subject: Quick paperwork — need your signature.

The attachment was named:

*Insurance_renewal_final.pdf*

I downloaded it.

The first four pages were insurance forms.

The fifth page was different.

It was an authorization to transfer the warehouse property into Carter Holdings.

My name appeared at the bottom.

The signature looked like mine.

I zoomed in.

My stomach tightened.

The signature was almost perfect.

But there was one detail.

I always signed my middle initial between my first and last name.

Maya E. Carter.

This document read:

Maya Carter.

I turned the laptop toward Thomas.

He studied the page.

Then he looked at me.

“Have you ever seen this document before?””

“No.””

“Did you authorize this transfer?””

“No.””

Martin leaned closer.

“Save the original email and attachment. Don't forward it through any service that might strip the metadata.””

I did exactly as he said.

Then I opened the document properties.

The creation date appeared.

It was dated three days before my father had asked me to sign the insurance renewal.

The author field showed a name.

*Peter Bennett.*

My uncle hadn't merely known about the deal.

He had prepared the document.

Thomas slowly removed his glasses.

“Maya, we need to stop that property transfer immediately.””

I nodded.

“Can we?””

“Your attorney will need to file the appropriate notice and seek urgent relief if the transfer is pending. We also need to notify the relevant parties through proper legal channels.””

I picked up my phone.

“Then let's do it.””

Before I could call Eleanor, a new email appeared.

It was from an address I didn't recognize.

The subject line contained only five words.

*YOUR FATHER IS NOT THE WORST ONE.*

I opened it.

There was no greeting.

No explanation.

Just one sentence.

If you want to know who really stole the Westbridge money, look at the original payroll account—not the consulting invoices.

I stared at the screen.

Then an attachment appeared beneath the message.

A bank statement.

I downloaded it.

The first page showed the Westbridge project account.

The second showed a transfer.

The third showed another transfer.

But the final page revealed something I hadn't seen before.

The money hadn't all gone to Blake.

Some of it had been transferred into a personal account belonging to Abigail Carter.

My mother.

I read the amount.

$92,000.

Then I noticed the date.

The transfer had happened six months before my grandmother died.

And the reference attached to the payment was:

*FAMILY TRUST — BENEFICIARY DISTRIBUTION.*

My hands went numb.

I looked at Thomas.

“Did my grandmother have a trust?””

His expression changed immediately.

“Yes.””

“Who managed it?””

Thomas slowly sat back down.

“Your mother.””

I stared at the statement.

My grandmother had left me something.

Something my mother had never mentioned.

And judging by the transfer records, someone had already taken it.

Then my phone buzzed again.

This time, it was a text from an unknown number.

Stop investigating the company, Maya. Your grandmother left you more than money. And if you discover what's in the original trust agreement, your entire family will fall apart.

I looked at the screen.

Then I looked at the bank statement.

For the first time, I wondered whether Riverside Builders had ever been the real secret.

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