Chapter 8: My Mother's Signature
Nobody spoke after Elaine finished reading the document.
The silence was so complete that I could hear the air-conditioning humming above us.
My mother sat frozen.
Brielle looked from the attorney to Uncle Raymond.
And Raymond was no longer smiling.
Patricia Lewis removed her glasses.
“Ms. Porter, are you saying this document is fraudulent?””
Elaine nodded.
“I'm saying the document presented today was not signed or witnessed according to the legal requirements for Evelyn Carter's final instructions.””
Raymond pushed his chair backward.
“This is an outrageous accusation.””
Elaine looked at him.
“Then you'll have no problem allowing the original document to undergo forensic examination.””
He said nothing.
Dad leaned forward.
“Raymond, where did you get this document?””
My uncle looked at the committee.
“It was provided to me by Denise.””
Every head turned toward Mom.
She wiped her face.
“Raymond, don't.””
He spread his hands.
“You gave it to me.””
Mom shook her head.
“I told you not to use it.””
The words escaped before she could stop herself.
Dad went completely still.
“What did you just say?””
Mom looked down.
Brielle stood.
“Mom, stop talking.””
But it was too late.
Elaine placed another document on the table.
“This is the original estate instruction, signed and witnessed by two independent parties. It specifically states that no subsequent agreement concerning the creative program can be accepted without the approval of the appointed trustees.””
Patricia studied it.
“And who are the trustees?””
Elaine turned the page.
“Marcus Carter and the independent estate representative.””
Raymond scoffed.
“Convenient.””
Dad looked at him.
“You've spent years claiming to protect my mother's legacy. Why would you forge a document transferring the program to Brielle?””
Raymond's jaw tightened.
“I didn't forge anything.””
“Then who did?””
“I received it.””
“From whom?””
He glanced at Mom.
She closed her eyes.
I looked at my sister.
Brielle was gripping the back of her chair.
“Brielle,” I said quietly, “did you know about this document?””
She glared at me.
“Don't start.””
“Did you know?””
“It's none of your business.””
I felt my voice shake.
“Grandma's name is on it.””
She leaned toward me.
“You've already gotten everything you wanted. Why can't you leave it alone?””
I stared at her.
“Everything?””
“Yes!””
Her voice rose.
“You get the letter. You get Dad. You get the program. And now you want everyone to believe I'm some kind of criminal.””
Patricia intervened.
“Brielle, please sit down.””
But my sister was no longer listening.
She pointed at me.
“You don't even know how this family works!””
I stood.
“Then explain it.””
Brielle's eyes filled.
“Grandma promised me the program.””
“Where is that promise?””
“She told me!””
“When?””
“Before she died!””
Elaine looked up.
“Brielle, I was present for several of Evelyn's final meetings. She never made that promise.””
Brielle turned toward her.
“You weren't there every day!””
“No,” Elaine replied.
“But I was present when the legal instructions were finalized.””
Raymond slammed his palm on the table.
“This meeting is becoming a circus.””
Dad stood.
“No. It's becoming an investigation.””
He turned toward Patricia.
“I formally request that the committee suspend all leadership decisions until the financial and legal reviews are complete.””
Patricia nodded.
“Agreed.””
Raymond gathered his papers.
“You can't do this.””
“We just did,” Dad replied.
My uncle looked around the room.
Then he pointed at Dad.
“You're going to regret this.””
Dad didn't move.
“Leave.””
Raymond grabbed his briefcase and walked out.
Brielle followed him.
Mom remained seated.
I looked at her.
“Mom?””
She wiped her cheeks.
“Please don't.””
I sat beside her.
“Why did you sign that document?””
She looked at the table.
“I didn't think it would go this far.””
“What did you think would happen?””
She began crying harder.
“Raymond said it would protect Brielle.””
“From what?””
“From losing everything.””
I looked at her.
“Mom, what did you and Uncle Raymond do?””
She covered her face.
“I thought I was helping.””
Elaine quietly closed her folder.
“Denise, I think it would be best if you spoke with independent legal counsel before making any further statements.””
Mom nodded.
Dad walked her out.
I remained in the conference room with Elaine and Patricia.
Patricia approached me.
“Nia, I want you to understand something. Your grandmother's wishes are important, but the committee must make decisions based on verified information.””
“I understand.””
“Your application will remain under consideration. However, we need to complete the review first.””
I nodded.
“That's fair.””
Elaine smiled gently.
“Your grandmother would have appreciated that answer.””
I looked at her.
“Did she really believe I could run the program?””
Elaine reached into her briefcase.
“I think she believed you understood why it existed.””
She handed me a small envelope.
“This was among the documents she left with me. She asked that I give it to you if the family ever disputed her intentions.””
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
My name.
Again.
I carefully opened it.
Inside was a short letter.
My dear Nia,
If you are reading this, it means the people I love have allowed money to become more important than the reason I created this program.
Do not fight to prove you are better than your sister. Do not turn my legacy into a weapon.
If you choose to lead, lead because you want other people to have the opportunities you wished you had.
And if you discover that someone has taken what I left behind, remember this: the truth does not become less true because the person responsible shares your blood.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
I cried quietly.
Elaine waited until I was ready.
Then she said something that made me look up.
“There's another matter.””
“What?””
“Your grandmother left a sealed instruction concerning the financial records.””
I frowned.
“What instruction?””
Elaine opened her briefcase again.
“She requested that, if unauthorized transfers were discovered, a particular storage account be examined.””
“What's in it?””
“Original correspondence and supporting financial records.””
“Where?””
Elaine gave me an address.
It was a storage facility in Buckhead.
“Your grandmother rented the unit herself,” she explained.
“The account has remained active since her death.””
I looked at Dad, who had just returned.
“Did you know about this?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
Elaine continued.
“There's one more thing. The account is registered in Evelyn's name, but access was transferred to a secondary holder shortly before she died.””
“Who?””
Elaine checked the document.
Then she looked up.
“Denise Carter.””
My stomach dropped.
We drove straight to the storage facility.
Dad insisted that Elaine accompany us. He also contacted the independent accountant and arranged for a representative to document everything we found.
The storage unit was at the end of a long corridor.
Its metal door was gray, with a small brass lock.
Elaine used the key from the envelope.
The door rolled upward.
Inside were cardboard boxes, old photographs, filing cabinets, and a wooden desk.
Everything was neatly arranged.
Dad stepped inside first.
“Your grandmother kept this place organized.””
I walked toward the desk.
A small blue notebook sat on top.
I recognized it from the storage room at home.
It was another of Grandma's notebooks.
But this one contained dates and account numbers.
I opened it.
The first pages described the foundation's early years.
Then I reached a page marked with a red line.
The heading read:
*PERSONAL FINANCIAL CONCERNS — DENISE AND RAYMOND*
I looked at Dad.
He came closer.
The notebook contained detailed entries about money transferred from Grandma's private accounts.
There were dates.
Amounts.
Names.
And handwritten explanations.
I turned another page.
My grandmother had written:
Raymond claims the money is being used for the foundation. Denise says she knows nothing about the transfers. I no longer believe either of them.
Dad closed his eyes.
“Mother…”
I continued reading.
Then I found a small envelope taped to the inside cover.
It contained a flash drive.
Elaine examined it.
“This could contain supporting records.””
Dad nodded.
“Let's have it reviewed properly.””
But before we could leave, my phone rang.
Brielle.
I answered.
“What?””
Her voice was trembling.
“Nia, where are you?””
“Why?””
“Mom is gone.””
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean?””
“She left the house. Her car is gone. Nobody knows where she went.””
“Did she say anything?””
Brielle began crying.
“She called me twenty minutes ago.””
“What did she say?””
There was a long pause.
Then Brielle whispered:
“She said Uncle Raymond told her everything was going to be blamed on her.””
I looked at Dad.
He immediately stepped closer.
“What else?”” I asked.
Brielle took a shaky breath.
“She said she was going to fix it.””
“How?””
“I don't know.””
Then my sister said something that made my blood run cold.
“She told me to tell you that the money wasn't the worst thing they did.””
I gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?””
Brielle started sobbing.
“Nia, there's something else about Grandma's death.””
The entire storage unit seemed to go silent.
“What are you talking about?””
“I don't know all of it. But Raymond has been keeping something from Dad.””
“Brielle, tell me.””
She whispered:
“Grandma didn't change her will because of the money.””
I froze.
“Then why?””
“Because she discovered that someone had been giving her medication without her doctor's approval.””
I looked at Dad.
His face had gone white.
Brielle continued.
“And Mom knows who did it.””
The call disconnected.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Dad took his phone from his pocket.
“Elaine, call the police and request a welfare check on Denise.””
He looked at me.
“We're going to find your mother.””
But as he reached for the notebook, a folded piece of paper slipped from its back cover.
It landed on the floor.
I picked it up.
There were only two handwritten lines.
If anything happens to me, do not trust the person who controls my medication.
May you like
And beneath that sentence was a name.
*Raymond Carter.*
