Chapter 8: The Last Week of My Mother's Life
Grandma refused to discuss my mother's final week until Malik and I were safely upstairs.
I hated that.
After months of being told to stay quiet, I was tired of adults deciding which truths I was allowed to hear.
I stood halfway down the staircase, listening while Grandma and Dad spoke in the kitchen.
“You promised me you would never bring this up,” Grandma said.
“I never promised that.””
“You promised you would let it rest.””
“My wife is dead, Evelyn. Someone is using her name to steal from our children. I am done letting things rest.””
There was a long silence.
Then Grandma said, “Your wife asked me to keep something from you.””
Dad's voice dropped.
“What?””
“She believed someone had been following her.””
My hand tightened around the banister.
Dad didn't speak for several seconds.
“Following her where?””
“To the hospital. To work. Once, she saw the same car outside our house three nights in a row.””
“Why didn't she tell me?””
“She did. You thought she was exhausted and frightened because of her illness.””
Dad's breathing grew uneven.
“She was sick. We knew she was sick.””
“Yes,” Grandma replied.
“But she was also afraid.””
I couldn't stay on the stairs any longer.
I walked into the kitchen.
“Grandma, who was following Mom?””
Both adults turned toward me.
Dad looked upset.
“Ariana, we asked you to stay upstairs.””
“And I heard you talking about Mom being followed. I'm not leaving.””
Grandma studied my face.
Then she pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, sweetheart.””
I sat.
She reached across the table and took my hand.
“Your mother was dealing with a complicated medical condition. She was in and out of the hospital during her final months. Some of her symptoms were unpredictable, and the doctors were still investigating certain problems.””
I remembered the last time I'd seen Mom standing in our kitchen. She'd worn a blue sweater and leaned against the counter while helping me prepare dinner. She had looked tired, but she'd smiled when Malik told a ridiculous joke.
Three weeks later, she was gone.
“What did the hospital records say?”” I asked.
Grandma hesitated.
“The summary we received stated that her death resulted from complications related to her condition.””
“Then why did Richard say to check the original records?””
Dad stared at the table.
“That's what we're going to find out.””
Grandma squeezed my hand.
“Your mother asked me to keep copies of some letters she had written. I didn't understand why at the time. She said they might matter if anything happened to her.””
“Do you still have them?””
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“At my house.””
Dad stood immediately.
“Then we're going there.””
Grandma shook her head.
“Not tonight. The attorney will help us obtain the hospital records properly, and I want the letters reviewed before anyone makes accusations.””
“Evelyn, if you have evidence that someone was threatening my wife—”
“I have letters. I don't have proof of who was responsible.””
Dad sank back into his chair.
For the first time, I noticed how tired he looked. His hair was disheveled, his shirt was wrinkled, and his eyes were red.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Then I remembered him standing in the kitchen while Vanessa accused me of endangering her imaginary baby.
I remembered him telling me to stop being selfish.
“Did Mom ever mention Vanessa?”” I asked.
Grandma's eyes shifted toward Dad.
He noticed.
“What does Vanessa have to do with this?””
“I don't know,” Grandma said.
“But your wife knew of her before the two of you became engaged.””
Dad stared at her.
“That isn't possible. I met Vanessa more than a year after my wife died.””
“I didn't say they met. I said your wife knew of her.””
My pulse quickened.
“How?””
Grandma rose and went to her handbag. She removed a small envelope that had been folded in half and tucked behind her wallet.
“I brought this because I thought we might need it.””
Inside was a letter written in my mother's familiar handwriting.
The paper was yellowed around the edges. Her name was at the bottom, followed by the date: six days before she died.
Grandma placed it in front of me.
I read the first line.
Evelyn, if Daniel ever marries the woman who used to work with Richard, please make sure the children are protected.
I stopped breathing.
Dad leaned over my shoulder.
“Read the rest.””
The letter continued.
I know this sounds strange, but I saw her at the hospital. She was speaking with Richard near the elevators. When I asked why he was there, he said he was visiting someone. I don't believe him.
My fingers trembled.
I have tried to speak with Daniel, but he thinks I'm frightened because of my condition. I don't want him to worry unnecessarily. Still, I want the children protected if I am not here to protect them myself.
The final paragraph was short.
If anything happens to me, please keep the original documents somewhere safe. I believe someone is trying to gain access to the property records.
I looked up.
“Mom knew Richard.””
Dad stared at the page.
“She must have seen him at the hospital.””
“Why would he be there?””
“I don't know.””
Grandma folded her hands.
“Your mother was frightened, Daniel. I should have insisted that we investigate. Instead, I thought she was overwhelmed by her illness.””
“Did you tell the police?””
“No. There was no clear threat. I didn't know what to report.””
Dad rubbed his face.
“I should have listened.””
I looked at him.
“Why didn't you?””
He met my eyes.
“Because I was scared, too. Your mother was getting worse, and I couldn't accept that we might lose her. Every time she told me something was wrong, I wanted to believe the doctors would fix it.””
His voice cracked.
“I thought if I stayed calm, everything would be all right.””
I had never heard my father admit that he had been afraid of losing control.
For a moment, I saw the husband who had lost his wife, not just the father who had failed his children.
But the moment didn't last.
My phone buzzed.
A message had arrived from an unknown number.
*You need to stop asking questions about your mother.*
I showed Dad.
He read it, then took a screenshot.
“Don't respond.””
Another message arrived.
*Some things are better left buried.*
Malik appeared in the doorway, drawn by the tension.
“What's happening?””
Dad put his phone away.
“Nothing you need to worry about right now.””
I almost laughed at the irony.
“That's what everyone keeps saying.””
Grandma rose and locked the back door.
“We're going to the attorney first thing tomorrow. Until then, nobody goes anywhere alone.””
Dad nodded.
He checked the locks and turned on the porch light.
I went upstairs with Malik, but neither of us could sleep.
At midnight, we sat on the floor of his bedroom, looking through the photographs saved on my phone. I had taken pictures of the suspicious emails and documents before Dad secured the laptop.
Malik pointed to one of the scanned papers.
“Look at the date.””
I leaned closer.
The document bearing my mother's signature had been created four years earlier, six weeks after her death.
But the digital file information showed something else.
The document itself had been scanned only two months ago.
“Maybe someone made a copy,” I said.
Malik shook his head.
“Look at the scanner information.””
The file listed the machine that had produced it.
It belonged to a law office.
Carter and Associates.
Rochelle's old firm.
I zoomed in on the bottom corner of the scan.
A tiny stamp appeared beside the page number.
*RECONSTRUCTED COPY — NOT ORIGINAL.*
I felt a chill run through me.
“Why would they reconstruct a document that supposedly already existed?””
Malik didn't answer.
Instead, he opened the original email attachment again.
There was another page behind the forged signature. It had been partially obscured by the scanning error.
I adjusted the brightness.
A paragraph became visible.
It referred to an amendment to my mother's will, allegedly signed before her death, granting temporary authority over the estate to a third party.
The name was blurred, but the first letter was clear.
R.
“Richard?”” Malik whispered.
“Maybe.””
I enlarged the image further.
The last line of the paragraph read:
Authority shall remain in effect until the younger child reaches eighteen years of age.
Malik looked at me.
“That's my birthday.””
“No,” I whispered.
“That's yours.””
His eighteenth birthday was less than a year away.
Mine was only four months away.
The document wasn't simply about taking Mom's house.
It was designed to remain hidden until we reached a particular age.
I opened the email again, searching for any clue about who had created it.
At the bottom of the message was a forwarding address.
I recognized the domain.
It belonged to a medical records service.
And the email had been sent from an account registered to a woman named Melissa Harris.
The same name as the clinic manager who had called Dad about Vanessa's fake ultrasound.
I stared at the screen.
“Malik, what if the clinic wasn't the only place Vanessa used a fake identity?””
He swallowed.
“What do you mean?””
“What if someone has been using other people's names for years?””
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
The caller ID displayed Grandma's name.
I answered immediately.
“Grandma?””
Her voice was breathless.
“Ariana, listen to me carefully. I just found something in your mother's old papers. Something I should have shown your father years ago.””
“What is it?””
“A hospital letter. It says your mother requested an independent review of her medical records before she died.””
My heart hammered.
“What did the review find?””
Grandma was silent for a moment.
Then she whispered, “The letter says there was an unexplained change in one of her medication orders.””
I couldn't speak.
“Grandma, what does that mean?””
“I don't know yet. But the letter names the person who authorized the change.””
“Who?””
May you like
Grandma's voice broke.
“Richard Cole.””
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