Chapter 1: The Papers Beside Grandma’s Bed
The first time my grandmother forgot my name, I thought it was the beginning of the end.
I didn't know it was actually the beginning of a crime.
And I certainly didn't know that the woman responsible for making her forget would soon reveal a secret my father had taken to his grave.
“Are you the nurse, sweetheart?””
Grandma Evelyn looked at me with tired blue eyes.
I sat beside her bed, forcing a smile even though something inside my chest had just cracked.
“No, Grandma. It's Maya. Your granddaughter.””
She blinked slowly.
“Maya?””
“Yes. It's me.””
For a moment, I thought she recognized me. Then she looked toward the window.
“Such a pretty name,” she murmured.
“I had a granddaughter once.””
I swallowed hard.
Grandma had raised me for most of my childhood. After my mother died when I was eight, she became my safe place. She taught me how to bake apple pie, how to recognize birds by their songs, and how to stand up for myself when someone tried to make me feel small.
She remembered everything.
Every birthday. Every school performance. Every ridiculous haircut I'd given myself at thirteen.
She even kept a little blue notebook containing the dates of every important moment in my life.
Yet now she couldn't remember me.
And Vanessa, my stepmother, kept insisting there was nothing unusual about it.
“She's eighty-two, Maya,” Vanessa had told me two days earlier.
“You can't expect her to behave like she's thirty.””
I had tried to explain that Grandma's condition had deteriorated unusually quickly.
Vanessa simply folded her arms.
“Maybe if you visited more often, you would understand how difficult this is.””
That accusation had stung.
I'd been working extra shifts at the accounting firm to save money, but I'd visited Grandma every weekend. Before Vanessa started restricting access, I called almost every evening.
Lately, Vanessa always answered.
And somehow, Grandma was always asleep.
That morning, I decided to stop asking permission.
Vanessa had announced that she needed groceries. The moment her SUV disappeared from the driveway, I drove straight to the house.
Now, sitting beside Grandma, I noticed something strange.
A small plastic medication cup sat on the bedside table.
Two white tablets rested inside.
Beside it was a prescription bottle bearing Grandma's name.
I picked it up.
The label described a medication Grandma had been prescribed for a heart condition. But the tablets inside the bottle were pale yellow.
The two tablets in the cup were white.
I turned the bottle over, checking the expiration date.
Something didn't add up.
“Grandma, did Vanessa give you these?””
Grandma looked at the cup.
“She says I need them.””
“What are they?””
“I don't know.””
“Have you been taking them every day?””
Her fingers began trembling beneath the blanket.
“Sometimes.””
I leaned closer.
“What do you mean, sometimes?””
Grandma looked toward the closed bedroom door.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
“Maya?””
My heart stopped.
She remembered.
“I'm here.””
“She keeps bringing papers.””
“What papers?””
“Big papers. Little papers. I don't know.””
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“She tells me I have to sign. She says it's important.””
I felt cold all over.
“Who tells you that?””
Grandma's eyes filled with tears.
“Vanessa.””
I glanced at the bedside chair.
Vanessa's expensive leather tote bag was sitting there, half-open.
I knew I shouldn't touch someone else's belongings.
But then Grandma said something that changed everything.
“She gets angry when I ask her to read them.””
I stood up.
“Grandma, I'm going to look for something. Just stay here.””
I reached into the tote bag.
Inside were a wallet, a lipstick case, several receipts, and a thick folder.
I pulled it out.
The first page was titled PROPERTY TRANSFER AGREEMENT.
My grandmother's full legal name appeared at the top.
Below it was a list of assets.
The family house.
A savings account.
Two parcels of land Grandpa had purchased decades earlier.
All were being transferred to Vanessa.
I turned to the signature page.
Evelyn Carter.
It was supposed to be Grandma's signature.
But I'd seen her sign birthday cards my entire life. This wasn't right.
Her handwriting normally had a beautiful, flowing capital E.
This signature looked like someone had struggled to copy it.
My hands began shaking.
“Grandma?””
She looked at me.
“Did you sign this?””
She stared at the paper.
Then she began crying.
“I don't remember.””
I turned another page.
There were witness signatures and a notary stamp. The transfer appeared to have been prepared several weeks earlier.
At the bottom was a date.
Three days after Grandma had been admitted to the hospital for dehydration.
My stomach twisted.
Then I heard the front door open.
“Maya?””
Vanessa's voice echoed through the hallway.
I quickly slid the documents into my hoodie pocket.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor.
She appeared in the doorway carrying two grocery bags.
Her eyes went straight to Grandma.
Then to the medication cup.
“Did she take her pills?””
“No.””
Vanessa put the bags down.
“Why not?””
“Because she doesn't want them.””
“She needs them.””
“Then explain why the pills in that cup don't match the prescription bottle.””
For half a second, Vanessa froze.
It was brief, but unmistakable.
Then she laughed.
“Are you suddenly a pharmacist?””
“No. I'm her granddaughter.””
“And I'm the person who has been taking care of her while you play busy with your little office job.””
Grandma pulled the blanket closer to her chest.
“Please don't make me take them.””
Vanessa's expression hardened.
“Evelyn, we've discussed this.””
I stepped between them.
“She said no.””
Vanessa looked at me.
“You're making this difficult.””
“What's in the folder?””
Her eyes moved to my hoodie pocket.
“What folder?””
“The property transfer agreement.””
The grocery bag slipped from her hand. An orange rolled across the floor.
For the first time since I'd known her, Vanessa looked genuinely frightened.
Then she recovered.
“You went through my personal belongings?””
“You put Grandma's house, savings, and land in your name.””
“Those documents are part of an estate-planning process.””
“Grandma doesn't even remember signing them.””
“She's confused. That's precisely why she needs someone responsible to handle her affairs.””
“Someone responsible? Or someone who wants her money?””
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Careful, Maya.””
I took out my phone.
“I'll call the police.””
She stared at it.
Then she reached into her tote bag and removed a sealed cream-colored envelope.
My name was written across the front.
MAYA CARTER.
“You think you know everything?”” she asked quietly.
I didn't answer.
Vanessa held the envelope between two fingers.
“You don't even know what your father signed before he died.””
My mouth went dry.
“What does my father have to do with this?””
Her smile returned.
“Everything.””
She placed the envelope on Grandma's bedside table.
“Read it before you accuse me of stealing something that was never supposed to belong to you.””
I looked down.
The return address was from a law firm I recognized.
And the date on the envelope was almost six months before my father died.
But what terrified me most was the handwriting on the front.
May you like
It was his.
My father's handwriting.
