Chapter 8: The Other Daughter
I couldn't speak.
Monique.
My stepsister.
The girl who had thrown my graduation gown into the fire.
The girl who had spent years competing with me for my father's attention.
The girl whose name was now connected to a document that could change the ownership of my mother's property.
I looked at my father.
“Is that possible?””
He shook his head.
“Not without examining the original documents.””
“But why would Mom name Monique?””
“I don't know.””
I sat down slowly.
For thirteen years, I had believed my mother had left everything to me.
Now I was being told that someone else might have a claim.
My father reached for my hand.
“Listen to me. Nothing has been established yet. We aren't going to assume the document was changed.””
“Then why was it in the records room?””
“Because it was part of the original estate file.””
I looked at him.
“Could Mom have wanted Monique to inherit something?””
He hesitated.
“Your mother was generous. It's possible she made provisions for other people. But we need the actual declaration.””
I swallowed.
“What if she really did?””
“Then we'll respect what she wanted.””
I looked away.
The answer hurt more than I expected.
Not because I wanted Monique to have nothing.
But because I couldn't understand why she had spent so much time trying to destroy something that my mother had carefully arranged for me.
My father called Raymond again.
The attorney explained that the property manager had already contacted the authorities and preserved the building's access records.
Nobody was to enter the records room until the appropriate inspection had been completed.
My father agreed.
Then Raymond added something.
The person who had requested access earlier that afternoon had returned that evening.
The security camera showed a woman entering the property shortly before nine.
She had used a key.
And she was carrying a blue folder.
I looked at my father.
“Denise.””
He didn't answer.
Raymond promised to send the footage to the relevant investigators.
After the call, my father sat quietly.
“I'm going to speak with Monique.””
I followed him upstairs.
She was still in her bedroom.
The suitcase remained open.
When she saw us, she stood.
“What's happening?””
My father closed the door.
“Sit down, Monique.””
She did.
He placed the photograph of the beneficiary declaration on the desk.
“Do you know anything about this document?””
Monique stared at it.
“No.””
“Your name appears in the property records as an alternate beneficiary.””
Her face went pale.
“What?””
“Did your mother ever tell you that?””
“No.””
“Did Calvin?””
She shook her head.
My father pulled out a chair.
“Think carefully.””
Monique pressed her hands together.
“Mom said I might receive something from the property one day.””
I felt my chest tighten.
“What exactly did she say?””
Monique looked at me.
“She said your mother had wanted to help us.””
“Help you how?””
“She said Evelyn had promised that I would never have to struggle if anything happened to you.””
My father frowned.
“That doesn't sound like anything your mother would have said.””
Monique looked down.
“Mom said there was a letter.””
“What letter?””
“I don't know. She said she had seen it.””
My father leaned forward.
“Where?””
“In her bedroom.””
I stared at her.
“Why didn't you mention that before?””
“Because I thought it was about money.””
My father rubbed his forehead.
“Did you read it?””
“No.””
“Did you see who wrote it?””
Monique hesitated.
Then she nodded.
“Your mother's name was at the bottom.””
I felt my heart pound.
“Where is it now?””
Monique shook her head.
“Mom took it.””
My father stood.
“When?””
“Yesterday morning.””
He looked at me.
We both understood.
The blue folder.
The missing declaration.
The letter.
Everything was connected.
My father called Raymond.
When he explained what Monique had said, the attorney asked us to search only for records already in our possession and leave the original property documents to the investigators.
He also asked for Monique's permission to preserve her phone messages.
She agreed.
But before Raymond ended the call, he said something important.
“Marcus, don't assume an alternate beneficiary automatically has an immediate right to the property. We need to examine the precise terms and whether any conditions apply.””
My father thanked him.
Then he turned to Monique.
“Did your mother tell you to leave tonight?””
She nodded.
“Where were you supposed to go?””
“She said Calvin would meet us.””
My father looked at me.
“Both of you?””
Monique nodded again.
“Mom said we would be starting over.””
I stared at her.
“Why would she want me to come?””
Monique looked confused.
“She didn't. She said I should leave with her.””
My father shook his head.
“You aren't going anywhere until we've established what's happening.””
Monique's eyes filled.
“Dad, I'm scared.””
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he sat beside her.
“I know.””
She began crying.
“I didn't think it would get this bad.””
My father sighed.
“You should have told me.””
“I thought you'd hate me.””
He looked at her.
“I'm disappointed in the choices you've made. But you're still young enough to make better ones.””
I watched them.
There was something painful about seeing him comfort her.
Not because I wanted him to stop.
But because I remembered all the times I had cried alone while Denise defended Monique.
My father noticed my expression.
He reached for my hand.
“You matter just as much.””
I nodded.
“I know.””
But knowing something and feeling it were different things.
Later that evening, Raymond sent a secure message containing the security footage.
My father opened it on his laptop.
The video showed the entrance to the commercial property.
At 8:47 p.m., a woman in a dark coat approached the side door.
She looked around before using a key.
The image was grainy.
But when she turned toward the camera, her face was visible.
Denise.
She entered carrying a blue folder.
Seven minutes later, she came out.
The folder was gone.
My father paused the video.
“That's her.””
I leaned closer.
“Where did she put it?””
He replayed the footage.
At the moment Denise exited, she was carrying a handbag that looked noticeably fuller than before.
Then something else happened.
A dark sedan pulled up.
A man stepped out.
He opened the passenger door for Denise.
Even with the grainy image, I recognized the face from the photograph in my mother's old folder.
Calvin Reed.
My father sat back.
“That's the man.””
The footage continued.
Denise got into the car.
Calvin drove away.
I stared at the screen.
“They're together.””
My father nodded.
He immediately forwarded the recording to Raymond.
Then he called Denise.
She didn't answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
At 10:15 p.m., a message appeared on his phone.
It was from Denise.
I need you to stop making this worse. We can still settle everything quietly.
My father read it.
Then another message arrived.
You don't know what Evelyn promised Calvin.
I felt my skin turn cold.
My father typed a response.
What did Evelyn promise him?
The message showed as delivered.
No answer came.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?””
A man's voice came through.
“Marcus Brooks?””
“Who is this?””
“Calvin Reed.””
My father stood.
“What do you want?””
“I think we need to talk.””
“About the property?””
“About Evelyn.””
My father looked at me.
“There's nothing to discuss.””
Calvin laughed quietly.
“You might want to reconsider. Your wife has been telling you only half the story.””
My father tightened his grip on the phone.
“What story?””
Calvin lowered his voice.
“Evelyn didn't leave everything to Nia.””
My heart stopped.
“What are you talking about?””
“She made an agreement before she died. An agreement your attorney doesn't know about.””
My father looked at Raymond's documents.
“Prove it.””
“I can. But I want something in return.””
“What?””
“The original beneficiary declaration.””
My father said nothing.
Calvin continued.
“Bring it to me, and I'll tell you what Evelyn really wanted.””
My father ended the call.
I stared at him.
“Dad, don't.””
He nodded.
“I'm not meeting him.””
But I couldn't stop thinking about what Calvin had said.
My mother had made an agreement.
Something outside the estate documents.
Something that might explain why Denise had been so determined to gain control of the property.
At 11:03 p.m., Monique appeared in the doorway.
She was holding a small photograph.
“I found this in Mom's suitcase.””
My father took it.
It showed my mother sitting at a restaurant table with Calvin.
On the back, in her handwriting, were the words:
The truth must never become a weapon against my daughter.
I looked at the photograph.
Then I noticed the date.
It was taken just three weeks before my mother died.
May you like
My father lowered the picture.
And for the first time, I saw genuine fear in his eyes.
