Chapter 4: The Inheritance Nobody Knew About
Daniel read the email three times.
Then he pushed the laptop away.
"My father left money?""
Rebecca Collins folded her hands on the desk.
"According to this correspondence, your father established a trust shortly before his death. The documents suggest your mother was appointed trustee, with you named as a beneficiary.""
Daniel shook his head.
"That's impossible. Mom told me Dad left everything to her. She said there was barely enough to cover the funeral and outstanding debts.""
Rebecca turned the laptop toward him again.
"Your sister appears to have known about the trust for some time.""
I looked at Daniel.
"How much money are we talking about?""
Rebecca opened another attachment.
A statement appeared on the screen.
The original trust had been valued at approximately $840,000.
Daniel went completely silent.
His father, Robert, had worked for nearly thirty years as an electrical engineer. He wasn't a wealthy man by appearance. He drove an old sedan, wore the same watch for years, and complained whenever the electricity bill increased.
But he had apparently invested carefully.
And he had left something substantial for his only son.
"Where is it now?"" Daniel finally asked.
Rebecca scrolled through the documents.
"That's what we need to establish. The trust appears to have undergone several transfers over the years. Some funds may have been distributed, but the records are incomplete.""
"Can my mother take it?""
"That depends on the trust's terms and her authority as trustee. If she has used funds improperly, that raises separate legal questions.""
Daniel leaned back.
His hands were shaking.
"My father never told me.""
"Did he die unexpectedly?"" Rebecca asked.
Daniel nodded.
"He had a heart attack. I was twenty-six. Mom handled everything afterward.""
"Did you receive any inheritance paperwork?""
"No. She told me there was nothing.""
Rebecca wrote something down.
"Then we need the original trust agreement, financial statements, and distribution records.""
I stared at the screen.
There was something I couldn't understand.
"Why would Brooke be involved?""
Rebecca opened the email again.
"Because the trust may be connected to the property arrangement. We need to determine whether someone intends to use the house as security or transfer it as part of a larger financial transaction.""
Daniel looked at me.
"My sister wouldn't do this.""
I didn't answer.
He noticed.
"You're thinking she would?""
I remembered Brooke bringing Patricia flowers.
Brooke asking whether our mortgage was nearly paid off.
Brooke casually mentioning how much property values had increased in our neighborhood.
And one evening, while Daniel was outside, she had asked whether I had any plans to return to work full-time.
At the time, I thought she was making conversation.
Now those questions sounded very different.
"Daniel," I said quietly, "your sister has been collecting information about our finances for months.""
He covered his face.
Rebecca interrupted gently.
"Before anyone confronts her, I recommend obtaining the complete records. We don't want to give anyone an opportunity to destroy evidence.""
Daniel nodded.
But his phone was already in his hand.
He opened Brooke's contact.
I placed my hand over his.
"Please. Not yet.""
He looked at me.
"She's my sister.""
"And she's the person named in your mother's notebook.""
He slowly put the phone down.
That evening, Daniel and I returned home separately.
He wanted to speak to Patricia.
I wanted to check on Maya.
My daughter was sitting at the dining table, drawing a picture of our family.
She had drawn Daniel, herself, and me.
Patricia was missing.
I sat beside her.
"That's a beautiful picture.""
Maya shrugged.
"Grandma said she doesn't want to be in pictures with us anymore.""
I gently took the pencil from her hand.
"Did she say anything else?""
Maya hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"She asked me if I knew where you kept Daddy's old papers.""
My stomach tightened.
"What papers?""
"The ones in the brown box in your bedroom closet.""
I looked toward the stairs.
That box contained Daniel's father's belongings.
Old photographs.
A watch.
Several letters.
And an envelope Daniel had never opened because he said it was too painful.
"Why would Grandma ask you about that?""
Maya lowered her voice.
"She said she was looking for something Daddy had lost.""
I hugged her.
"Thank you for telling me.""
Then I went upstairs.
The brown box was still in the closet.
But when I opened it, I immediately noticed something was missing.
The envelope.
I searched beneath the photographs.
Nothing.
I checked the bottom of the box.
Nothing.
Someone had taken it.
I called Daniel.
"Where is your father's envelope?""
"What envelope?""
"The one you kept in the brown box.""
There was a pause.
"Why?""
"Because it's gone.""
He came upstairs immediately.
We searched the closet, the bedroom drawers, and the storage cabinet.
Nothing.
Then Daniel suddenly stopped.
"Mom.""
"What?""
"She was in here last week.""
I stared at him.
"When?""
"Tuesday. She said she was looking for an old photograph.""
My blood ran cold.
"Daniel, your mother has been asking Maya about these papers.""
He pulled out his phone.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
He called Patricia.
"Mom, where is Dad's envelope?""
Her answer came immediately.
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
"The brown envelope in my bedroom.""
"Oh, that old thing?""
"Where is it?""
She sighed.
"I moved some things because your wife keeps making a mess.""
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"You took something from our bedroom?""
"I was helping.""
"Where is it?""
Patricia paused.
Then she said something that made Daniel's expression change completely.
"I gave it to Brooke. She said it was important.""
At 9:17 p.m., Daniel received a message from his sister.
It contained a photograph.
An old document.
May you like
And beneath it, a short sentence.
Mom was right. You were never supposed to see this.
