Chapter 4: The Woman My Father Trusted
I stared at the unfamiliar name on the sealed document.
*Evelyn Brooks.*
Beneath it was an address in downtown Chicago and a law firm's name: Brooks, Whitmore & Associates.
"Who is she?"" I asked.
Aunt Denise looked at me carefully.
"She was your father's attorney before he married your mother.""
"Why have I never heard of her?""
"Because your mother made sure you never would.""
Denise took a breath.
"Your father and Evelyn were close. Not romantically. She was the person who helped him establish his business, write his will, and protect his assets. When he became sick, he asked her to oversee the children's trust if anything happened to him.""
I looked at the document again.
"Then why did Mr. Whitmore become the attorney?""
"Because Evelyn disappeared from the picture shortly before your father died. Your mother told everyone she had retired.""
"Did she?""
Denise shook her head.
"No. She was removed from the case without her consent.""
I felt a chill move through me.
"How could Mom do that?""
"She couldn't. Not legally. But your mother had a signed authorization from your father that she claimed allowed her to appoint another attorney.""
"Was it real?""
Denise hesitated.
"That's what Evelyn wants to establish.""
I stared at the envelope.
There was a phone number written across the back.
"Call her," I said.
Denise nodded and dialed.
The phone rang four times.
Then a woman's voice answered.
"Brooks speaking.""
"Ms. Brooks, this is Denise Carter. I'm sitting with Zarya.""
There was a pause.
Then the woman's voice softened.
"Zarya?""
"Yes.""
"How old are you now, sweetheart?""
"Eighteen.""
"Oh, thank goodness.""
I exchanged a confused look with Denise.
"Have you been waiting for me?"" I asked.
"Since your father passed away.""
My chest tightened.
"Why?""
"Because he left specific instructions that I was not to contact you until you reached adulthood unless there was evidence that your mother had interfered with the trust.""
I looked at the documents scattered across the table.
"She has.""
"I suspected she might.""
I gripped the phone.
"Can you help me get my scholarship back?""
"I can help you investigate what happened. But first, I need you to understand something.""
"What?""
"Your father didn't simply leave you money. He left you control over something much larger.""
I glanced at Denise.
"What do you mean?""
"I'll explain when we meet. Can you come to my office tomorrow morning?""
"Yes.""
"Bring every document your aunt has. And Zarya?""
"Yes?""
"Do not sign anything your mother gives you. Do not agree to any financial settlement. And above all, do not tell Mr. Whitmore that we're speaking.""
The call ended.
For several seconds, I sat motionless.
Then my phone rang.
MOTHER.
I declined the call.
It rang again.
I declined again.
A text appeared.
Where are you? Get home immediately.
Another followed.
You are making a terrible mistake by listening to Denise.
Then one more.
I know about Evelyn Brooks.
I stared at the screen.
My fingers went cold.
How could she know?
Before I could respond, Aunt Denise leaned across the table.
"Zarya, look at me.""
I lifted my eyes.
"Your mother is frightened," she said.
"That's why she's acting this way.""
"She doesn't look frightened.""
"People who are afraid of losing control often look angry.""
I slipped my phone into my pocket.
"I want to know everything.""
"Then we start with the bank.""
That afternoon, Denise accompanied me to the branch listed on the trust statements.
The manager, a middle-aged man named Mr. Collins, reviewed the documents we'd brought.
He typed something into his computer.
Then his expression changed.
"Miss Carter, I'm afraid there are restrictions on this account.""
"What restrictions?""
"An administrative hold was placed on the trust three months ago.""
"By whom?""
He looked at his screen.
"Attorney Harold Whitmore.""
I felt my stomach twist.
"Can you show me the authorization?""
He hesitated.
"I can provide the account holder with certain records after identity verification.""
I presented my identification.
He disappeared into his office.
When he returned, he carried a thick folder.
"There's something unusual here.""
He placed a document in front of me.
It was an instruction to transfer the remaining trust balance into an investment account.
The listed account holder was Carter Family Holdings LLC.
The same company from the scholarship cancellation paperwork.
But the signature at the bottom wasn't my mother's.
It was mine.
Or at least, someone had tried very hard to make it look like mine.
"That's not my signature," I whispered.
Mr. Collins nodded.
"I understand. We can flag the document for investigation.""
"Who submitted it?""
He turned the page.
"Your mother.""
I leaned back.
Then I noticed a second name in the transaction notes.
*Marcus Carter.*
My little brother.
"What does my brother have to do with this?""
Mr. Collins adjusted his glasses.
"He was listed as a secondary beneficiary on the proposed transfer.""
I looked at Denise.
She seemed just as confused.
"Was any money actually transferred?"" I asked.
"Not from this account. The hold prevented the transaction.""
I exhaled.
At least one thing hadn't been stolen.
Then Mr. Collins pointed to the final page.
"However, there was an earlier withdrawal request for a substantially larger amount.""
My heart started racing.
"How much?""
"One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.""
I stared at him.
"Where did it go?""
He turned the document around.
The recipient was Carter Family Holdings LLC.
And the authorization date was six months before my mother canceled my scholarship.
As we left the bank, my phone buzzed again.
This time, it was Marcus.
Zarya, please come home. Mom says something bad will happen if you keep digging.
I called him immediately.
He answered in a whisper.
"Where are you?""
"At the bank. Marcus, what did Mom tell you?""
"I can't talk here.""
"Are you okay?""
He was quiet.
Then I heard a door slam in the background.
"Zarya, she found Dad's old papers. She's burning them.""
My blood turned cold.
"Which papers?""
"The ones in his desk.""
May you like
Then Marcus said something that made me stop walking.
"There's one she hasn't found yet. Dad told me where it was.""
