Chapter 6: The Account Nobody Was Supposed to Find
Marcus called me at 6:12 that evening.
I was sitting in my car outside my apartment, the photograph of my father and uncle resting on the passenger seat. The sky had darkened, and rain tapped against the windshield in irregular little bursts.
I watched his name appear on my screen.
For several seconds, I considered letting it ring.
Then I answered.
“Nia,” Marcus said, his voice unusually formal.
“We need to talk.””
“About the Savannah account?””
Silence.
“Where did you hear that?””
“From someone who knew my father.””
“Was it Eleanor Price?””
“Does it matter?””
“It matters very much.””
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Did Dad ask you to help him investigate Vanessa?””
Marcus exhaled.
“I'd rather not discuss this over the phone.””
“That's what everyone keeps saying.””
“Because phones leave records, and people have been asking questions they shouldn't be asking.””
I sat up straighter.
“Are you telling me someone is monitoring our calls?””
“I'm telling you that your father was careful for a reason.””
“Then stop speaking in riddles. Did Vanessa steal from him?””
“I didn't say that.””
“Did she?””
Marcus was silent long enough for me to hear the faint sound of traffic through his end of the call.
Finally, he said, “Meet me tomorrow morning. The old diner on Peachtree. Eight o'clock.””
“Why there?””
“Because your father and I used to meet there when we needed to talk without involving the office.””
“You could tell me now.””
“I could. But if I'm right about what Daniel discovered, you need to see the records before you decide what to believe.””
“Are you bringing them?””
“Yes.””
“Then I'll be there.””
He paused.
“And Nia?””
“What?””
“Don't tell Vanessa.””
The call ended.
I sat in the rain-darkened car, feeling as though the walls of my life were slowly shifting around me.
For years, Marcus had been the quiet uncle who attended birthdays, sent Christmas cards, and avoided arguments. He and my father had argued about business when I was young, sometimes loudly enough that my mother would take me outside until they finished.
After my mother died, their relationship seemed to improve.
Then Vanessa arrived.
Within two years, Marcus stopped attending family dinners. He sent brief messages on holidays and rarely visited the mansion. My father always said they were working through a disagreement.
I had never asked what it was about.
Now I wondered whether the disagreement had been about Vanessa all along.
The diner smelled of burnt coffee, bacon, and floor cleaner.
Marcus was already seated in a booth near the back, wearing a navy jacket over a pale blue shirt. His hair had gone mostly gray since I'd last seen him regularly, and his face looked thinner than it had at the funeral.
A leather document case rested beside him.
He stood when I approached.
“I'm glad you came.””
“I almost didn't.””
“I wouldn't have blamed you.””
I slid into the booth opposite him.
He studied me for a moment.
“You look like your father when you're angry.””
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
“Because it's true.””
A waitress approached, carrying a pot of coffee.
Marcus ordered black coffee. I asked for tea.
When she left, I folded my hands on the table.
“Tell me about the Savannah account.””
Marcus opened the document case.
“Before I do, you need to understand that your father wasn't simply worried about his inheritance. He was worried about what would happen to the company if the wrong person took control.””
He removed a series of printed statements and placed them between us.
“These are records of transfers involving a property-holding company connected to the Savannah development. The transactions began about eighteen months ago.””
I scanned the pages.
Several transfers were listed under the same account, each with a reference number and a date. Some were for tens of thousands of dollars. Others were substantially larger.
“Who authorized them?””
“On paper, the approvals came from people with legitimate access to the accounts.””
“Vanessa?””
“Some approvals were made under credentials assigned to her office. That doesn't, by itself, prove she personally initiated every transaction.””
I looked up.
“But Dad suspected her.””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Marcus tapped a page.
“Because one of the transfers was connected to a vendor that didn't appear to exist. Your father asked for the original invoices. The copies he received didn't match the accounting records.””
I examined the page more closely.
The vendor name meant nothing to me.
“What happened when he asked questions?””
“He was told the discrepancy came from a clerical error. When he asked again, the original supporting documents had disappeared from the office file.””
“Who had access?””
“Several employees. Your father didn't want to accuse anyone without proof.””
“So he made a new will.””
“He made a new will because he no longer trusted the old estate plan to protect you. The financial investigation was a separate matter, though the two eventually became connected.””
I leaned back.
“Why did he leave everything to me?””
Marcus looked down at the table.
“Because he believed you would protect the company rather than treat it as a prize.””
I almost laughed.
“Vanessa thinks I want the company because I'm greedy.””
“Vanessa thinks people want what she wants.””
He said it without anger, almost sadly.
I studied him.
“Why did you stop coming around?””
Marcus stirred his coffee.
“Because I confronted your father about his marriage. I told him Vanessa was getting too much control over his business affairs. He told me I was jealous of his success and couldn't accept that he had rebuilt his life.””
“Were you?””
“Jealous?””
I nodded.
He considered the question.
“Perhaps I was jealous of the time he gave her. Perhaps I was angry that he trusted her more than he trusted me. But I wasn't wrong about the risks.””
He pulled another page from the case.
“Your father and I had a terrible argument. I left the company, and we barely spoke for months. When he contacted me again, he apologized.””
My throat tightened.
“What did he say?””
Marcus looked toward the rain-streaked window.
“He said, ‘I made it easy for someone to come between us because I didn't want to admit I'd made a mistake.’”
That sounded like my father too.
“What mistake?””
“Giving Vanessa authority over too many financial matters without independent oversight.””
The waitress returned with my tea. Marcus waited until she left before continuing.
“Your father asked me to review the Savannah transactions quietly. I found evidence that money had moved through an intermediary company. I traced the company to an address that appeared to be a registered office, but the listed business had no meaningful operations.””
“Did you tell Dad?””
“Yes. He asked me to preserve everything and take no further action until Eleanor could review the records.””
“Why didn't you go to the police?””
“Because we still had unanswered questions. We needed to know whether the transactions were unauthorized, whether they benefited Vanessa personally, and whether other people were involved. An accusation without sufficient evidence could have destroyed innocent employees and given the guilty person time to erase the trail.””
I understood the caution.
I also understood why my father had become afraid.
“What happened to the records?””
Marcus closed the document case.
“I kept copies in a secure place. Your father kept the originals.””
“Where?””
“I don't know.””
I stared at him.
“You said you'd bring the records.””
“I brought my copies of the account statements and transaction logs. I never possessed the original invoices.””
“Then you don't know where Dad hid them?””
“No.””
He looked at me steadily.
“But I believe Vanessa does.””
The diner suddenly seemed too loud. A spoon clattered against a plate. Someone laughed near the counter. Outside, a truck rolled through a puddle.
I lowered my voice.
“Why would she present the old will if she knew Dad had signed a new one?””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“Because she may have believed she could establish the old will before anyone produced the replacement. She could then claim the estate was settled, move assets, and argue that the later document was fraudulent.””
“Could she actually do that?””
“She could try. Whether it would work is another question. Mr. Coleman appears to have acted appropriately by refusing to proceed until the conflicting documents are verified.””
I thought of the keys slipping from Vanessa's fingers.
The moment she saw the blue folder, she had known.
“Uncle Marcus, did you see Vanessa after the funeral?””
He frowned.
“Briefly.””
“Did she say anything about the will?””
“She asked whether I'd been in contact with Eleanor.””
“What did you say?””
“That I hadn't spoken to Eleanor in months.””
“Was that true?””
Marcus hesitated.
“No.””
My stomach tightened.
“You lied to her?””
“I didn't tell her about our conversation. Your father asked me to protect the investigation.””
“When did you last speak to him?””
Marcus lowered his eyes.
“Two days before he died.””
I waited.
“He called me from the hospital,” Marcus continued.
“He was tired. He said he had finally secured the evidence he needed. He told me that if anything happened to him, I should make sure you received the account records.””
“Did he say he thought he was going to die?””
“No. He believed he was recovering. He complained about the food and asked me to bring him a decent sandwich.””
Marcus's mouth trembled into the ghost of a smile.
“Then he told me something strange. He said he had made one final change to his plans, and that I would understand once I saw the document.””
“The will?””
“I assume so.””
He reached into his jacket and removed a folded note.
“This was delivered to my office the morning after he died. No return address.””
I unfolded it.
My father's handwriting filled half the page.
Marcus, if Vanessa presents the first will, the second will must be protected. Do not let anyone convince Nia that the truth is a betrayal. She will need to know who helped me, and who only pretended to.
At the bottom was another sentence.
The Savannah account is not the end of this.
I looked up.
“What does that mean?””
Marcus's face had gone pale.
“I don't know.””
“Did you receive anything else?””
“No.””
“Then why did you wait until today to contact me?””
“Because I was trying to confirm whether the will was genuine before involving you. And because I was afraid.””
The admission caught me off guard.
“Afraid of Vanessa?””
“Afraid of what she might do if she realized how much we knew.””
I folded the note.
“You should have told me sooner.””
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“I should have.””
For the first time, I saw genuine shame in his face.
I wanted to forgive him. I also wanted to know whether he was telling me everything.
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Mr. Coleman.
I answered immediately.
“Hello?””
“Nia, I need you to listen carefully. My office has received a formal objection to the later will.””
“From Vanessa?””
“Yes. Her attorney is challenging its validity and has requested records concerning the circumstances of its execution.””
I glanced at Marcus.
“What does that mean?””
“It means the dispute is now formal. The documents will need to be reviewed, and the estate's administration may be delayed while the relevant issues are resolved.””
“Can she stop the will from being verified?””
“She can challenge it. She cannot simply make it disappear.””
I let out a breath.
“Is there anything else?””
A pause.
“Yes. Her attorney has alleged that the blue folder may have been planted after your father's death.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“That's a lie.””
“Then we need evidence that establishes when the document was created, where it was kept, and how it came to be found. Eleanor's records will be important.””
I thanked him and ended the call.
Marcus watched me.
“She moved quickly,” he said.
“She was prepared.””
He nodded grimly.
“Then we need to move faster.””
I slid the account records back into the leather case.
“I'm taking copies to Mr. Coleman.””
“Good.””
“And I'm going to ask Danielle to provide a statement.””
Marcus stiffened.
“Danielle?””
“She's the witness.””
He looked toward the window.
“Be careful with her. Vanessa has always known how to make her daughter feel responsible for her happiness.””
“You knew Danielle was involved?””
“I knew she had been helping your father. I didn't know she'd agreed to witness the will until after his death.””
I watched his face.
“Are you sure?””
He met my eyes.
“Yes.””
I wanted to believe him.
But as I stood to leave, I noticed a small white envelope protruding from the side pocket of his document case.
My name was written across it in my father's handwriting.
“What's that?”” I asked.
Marcus followed my gaze.
His expression changed.
For the first time since we sat down, he looked genuinely startled.
“I've never seen that before.””
I reached toward it.
He caught my wrist.
“Wait.””
I stared at his hand until he released me.
Then he removed the envelope himself.
It was sealed, and the paper had yellowed slightly at the edges. On the front, beneath my name, my father had written five words.
Open only after Marcus confesses.
Marcus stopped breathing for a moment.
I looked at him.
“Confesses what?””
He shook his head.
“I don't know.””
But his hands were trembling.
And as he turned the envelope over, I saw a second line of handwriting beneath the seal.
May you like
A line my father had apparently added later.
If he tells you the truth about Savannah, ask him what happened to your mother.