Chapter 8: The Night My Mother Died
I stared at the photograph.
Denise stood beside my mother's hospital bed, wearing a dark coat and holding a folder.
I remembered the funeral.
I remembered the flowers.
I remembered Dad crying in the hallway while relatives whispered about how unfair life could be.
But I didn't remember Denise being there.
"Why was she at the hospital?"" I asked.
Dad pulled out a chair.
"She told me she had come to visit.""
"How did she know Mom was there?""
"She said someone from the accounting office had called her.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know she was involved with Mercer until yesterday.""
I pushed the picture across the table.
"What happened that night?""
Dad rubbed his eyes.
"Your mother had been sick for months. Her condition got worse very suddenly. I was at the hospital with her. You were staying with my sister.""
He paused.
"At some point, Elaine asked me to retrieve a folder from home.""
"What folder?""
"The original trust documents.""
"Did you find them?""
He shook his head.
"No. I searched everywhere. When I returned, Denise was in the room.""
"Was she alone with Mom?""
"Yes.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"What did Mom say?""
Dad looked at the photograph.
"She was upset. She kept asking me whether I had brought the folder.""
"And you hadn't.""
"No.""
"Then what?""
"She told me someone had taken it.""
"Who?""
Dad swallowed.
"She couldn't finish the sentence.""
I stared at him.
"Did she say Denise's name?""
He nodded slowly.
I felt the room tilt.
"Why didn't you report it?""
"I didn't know what had been taken. I thought she was confused because of the medication.""
"And afterward?""
Dad looked away.
"She died the next morning.""
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked, "Did Denise come to the funeral?""
"Yes.""
"Did she ever mention the folder again?""
"No.""
I stood and walked toward the window.
The street was quiet.
A security light illuminated the empty driveway.
My mother had been trying to protect something for me, and the person who eventually became my stepmother had been standing beside her hospital bed when those documents disappeared.
I turned around.
"Why did you marry Denise?""
Dad looked wounded.
"Because I was lonely.""
I didn't respond.
"After your mother died, I didn't know how to raise you alone. Denise was kind at first. She helped with school, cooked meals, and made the house feel normal again.""
He looked down.
"I thought she was helping me rebuild our family.""
I wanted to be angry with him.
Part of me was.
But I could also see the exhaustion in his face.
"Did you ever love her?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Do you still?""
He took a long time to answer.
"I don't know who she is anymore.""
The following morning, we met Eleanor at her office.
A second attorney, Thomas Reed, joined us. He specialized in trust disputes and financial fraud.
Eleanor had already obtained the filing from Westbridge.
Thomas spread the documents across the conference table.
"The second agreement is a purported beneficiary waiver," he explained.
I leaned forward.
"What does that mean?""
"It means someone is claiming you voluntarily surrendered certain rights to the trust property.""
"Can they do that?""
"Only if the agreement is authentic and legally valid. We have serious reasons to question both.""
He pointed to the signature.
It was mine.
Or an extremely convincing imitation.
But the date was from four months earlier.
I remembered exactly where I'd been that day.
Working a twelve-hour shift at the hospital administration office.
I had never met anyone from Westbridge.
Thomas continued.
"The document also references a digital verification code sent to a phone number ending in 4418.""
Dad frowned.
"That's Denise's old number.""
I looked at him.
"How do you know?""
"She used it when we first met.""
Thomas wrote something down.
"That's important.""
He showed us another page.
The agreement stated that I had received a payment of $250,000 in exchange for relinquishing my interest in the property.
I nearly laughed.
"Where is that money?""
Thomas looked at me.
"That's what we need to determine.""
"I've never received anything close to that amount.""
Eleanor nodded.
"Your mother's trust account also shows no corresponding payment.""
Thomas closed the folder.
"We'll request the payment records and challenge the authenticity of the document. In the meantime, nobody should contact Mercer directly.""
Dad leaned forward.
"Can we stop him?""
"We can take immediate legal steps to prevent a disputed transfer. But I want to know something first.""
He looked at me.
"Do you know whether your mother had any other assets?""
I shook my head.
Eleanor opened the metal box again.
"There's something Elaine instructed me to keep separate.""
She removed a small envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of an old bank statement.
The account holder was listed as Elaine Brooks.
The balance was just over $1.2 million.
I stared at it.
"That's real?""
Eleanor nodded.
"Yes. It was part of the original trust structure. The account was transferred into a protected investment arrangement shortly before Elaine died.""
Dad looked stunned.
"One point two million?""
"Approximately.""
I sat back.
All those years, I'd thought my mother had left behind a modest amount of money.
Enough for college.
Maybe a down payment on a small house.
Not this.
Thomas studied the statement.
"There's a problem.""
He pointed to the account history.
A withdrawal had been recorded eleven years earlier.
The amount was $310,000.
I frowned.
"Who withdrew it?""
The transaction description listed a company.
*Brooks Family Holdings.*
Dad stared.
"I never opened that company.""
Eleanor nodded.
"That's why Elaine became concerned.""
I looked at the date.
It was three days before my mother's death.
Dad stood abruptly.
"Someone used my name.""
Thomas studied the record.
"Do you have any evidence that you authorized this withdrawal?""
"No.""
"Did you receive the money?""
"Absolutely not.""
Eleanor opened another document.
"The withdrawal was authorized through a corporate account registered using Marcus's personal identification details.""
Dad looked sick.
"Who had access to those documents?""
Eleanor answered quietly.
"According to Elaine's original records, three people.""
She placed three names on the table.
Marcus Brooks.
Daniel Mercer.
And Denise Brooks.
I looked at the names.
Then I noticed something beneath them.
A handwritten note in my mother's handwriting.
If the $310,000 disappears, check the property ledger. The money wasn't spent. It was moved to secure Nia's future.
Thomas leaned forward.
"That's interesting.""
He examined the statement again.
Then he pulled out his laptop.
"Can I have a few minutes?""
He entered the company name into a database and began searching public records.
A few minutes later, he stopped typing.
"I found something.""
He turned the laptop toward us.
Brooks Family Holdings had been dissolved eleven years earlier.
But its remaining assets had been transferred into another company.
A company registered six months after my mother died.
The current owner was listed as a private holding entity.
Thomas clicked on the ownership record.
Then he went completely silent.
"What?"" Dad asked.
Thomas enlarged the screen.
The company was called Mercer Property Investments.
And its registered director was not Daniel Mercer.
It was Denise Brooks.
Dad stood so quickly that his chair scraped against the floor.
"She owned the company?""
Thomas nodded.
"She still appears to control it.""
I looked at the $310,000 withdrawal.
Then at Denise's name.
"She took the money.""
Thomas shook his head.
"Not necessarily. The records show the money was transferred into the company, but we need the complete accounting history.""
Eleanor turned another page.
Her expression changed.
"There's more.""
She showed us a document dated four months ago.
It was a request to liquidate the company's remaining assets.
The amount listed was $310,000 plus accumulated investment returns.
The requesting party had used my name as the beneficiary.
And the application included an address.
My current home.
Dad looked at me.
"Why would she request the money now?""
Thomas read the final section.
"Because the beneficiary is scheduled to receive control of the trust assets upon reaching twenty-four.""
My birthday.
Four months away.
Then Eleanor pointed to a final attachment.
It was a notarized declaration stating that I had voluntarily appointed Denise as my financial representative.
I stared at the signature.
The document was dated two weeks earlier.
I had never signed it.
But the notary's stamp was real.
And the witness listed below the signature was someone I knew.
May you like
Someone who had been sitting in my father's house the entire time.
*Kaylee Brooks.*
