Chapter 9: The Truth About My Father
I ended the call without saying goodbye.
For several seconds, the conference room was completely silent.
Helen slowly put down her pen.
Aunt Denise stared at David.
And I stood there, unable to understand what I'd just heard.
My father had transferred the money.
The same money my mother had supposedly stolen.
I turned toward him.
"Is it true?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Nia, it's complicated.""
I laughed.
"That seems to be everyone's favorite answer tonight.""
He looked at me.
"Raymond is trying to manipulate you.""
"Did you transfer eight hundred and forty thousand dollars?""
He didn't answer.
"Did you?""
Finally, he nodded.
"Yes.""
I felt something inside me go numb.
"Why?""
David sat down.
"Because I was trying to protect the trust.""
I stared at him.
"By moving all the money?""
He nodded slowly.
"Your mother had started making unauthorized withdrawals. I was worried she would drain the account.""
"So you moved it?""
"Yes.""
"Where?""
He looked toward Helen.
She leaned forward.
"Mr. Carter, please answer the question.""
David took a breath.
"I transferred the money into a separate holding company.""
I stared.
"Whose company?""
"Mine.""
The room went quiet.
I looked at Aunt Denise.
She looked just as shocked as I felt.
"You transferred the money into your own company?""
"I intended to return it to the trust.""
"When?""
"After the legal dispute with your mother was resolved.""
I shook my head.
"That was eleven years ago.""
"I know.""
"Where is the money now?""
He lowered his eyes.
"Most of it is gone.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"Gone?""
He nodded.
"The holding company invested in several properties and businesses. Some investments failed.""
"How much is left?""
"Approximately one hundred and ninety thousand.""
I stared at him.
"So the trust lost more than six hundred thousand dollars?""
He nodded.
I turned away.
My father had abandoned us.
My mother had hidden his letters.
But now I was learning that neither of them had been honest about the money.
I had spent years building a life from nothing.
And the people who were supposed to protect my future had spent that future without telling me.
Helen broke the silence.
"Mr. Carter, do you have documentation showing the current location of the remaining funds?""
"Yes.""
"Can you provide it?""
"Yes.""
"Then I suggest you do so immediately.""
David opened his briefcase and removed another folder.
"I brought the records.""
Helen examined them.
She read several pages, then stopped.
"These transactions are unusual.""
David leaned forward.
"Which ones?""
She pointed to a transfer dated eleven years earlier.
"This payment was made to a company called Whitmore Property Holdings.""
I stared.
"Daniel Whitmore?""
Helen nodded.
"Yes.""
David looked confused.
"I don't remember authorizing that.""
Helen checked another page.
"There were three additional payments.""
The amounts were $120,000, $95,000, and $160,000.
I added them in my head.
Three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars.
I looked at my father.
"Did you know this money had been transferred?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
"Who had access to the account?""
David hesitated.
Then he said:
"Daniel had administrative access during the original investment period.""
I stared.
"Why?""
"He was managing several property transactions for the holding company.""
Helen leaned back.
"So the same person who witnessed the disputed trust agreement also received money from the holding company.""
David nodded.
"Yes.""
I felt sick.
Everything was connected.
My mother's loans.
Marcus's debt.
The property sale.
The forged documents.
Daniel's involvement.
And the missing trust money.
But there was one thing I still couldn't understand.
"Why did Raymond say my father transferred the money?""
David looked at me.
"Because he knows about the holding company.""
"Then why is he lending my mother money?""
David's expression hardened.
"Because he believes the family trust still has an outstanding obligation to him.""
Helen closed the folder.
"Does Raymond have a legitimate claim?""
David looked at her.
"He invested money in the original property company. But his agreement was with the holding company, not with Nia.""
I turned.
"What does that mean?""
"It means he may have a claim against my company. It does not automatically make you responsible.""
Helen nodded.
"That distinction is important.""
I sat down.
For the first time all evening, I felt like I could breathe.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Claire.
*Please come home. Mom is packing.*
I stared at the screen.
Another message arrived.
*She says she's leaving your house tonight.*
I frowned.
"Why is Mom packing?""
Aunt Denise looked up.
"Perhaps she's frightened.""
I called Claire.
She answered immediately.
"Where are you?""
"At home.""
"What's happening?""
"Mom is putting everything into suitcases.""
"Why?""
"She says you're going to throw her out.""
I closed my eyes.
"I haven't told her to leave.""
"She doesn't believe you.""
I lowered my voice.
"Claire, I need you to answer something honestly.""
"What?""
"Did Mom use the trust money to pay Marcus's gambling debts?""
She went quiet.
Then she whispered:
"Some of it.""
"How much?""
"I don't know exactly.""
"Claire, please.""
She sighed.
"About two hundred thousand.""
I closed my eyes.
"Why?""
"Marcus kept losing money. He borrowed from people, and Mom kept paying them off.""
"With trust money?""
"Yes.""
I felt my chest tighten.
"And the rest?""
"I don't know.""
"Did Mom use any of it for herself?""
Claire hesitated.
Then she said:
"She bought the apartment.""
I froze.
"What apartment?""
"The one she owns in Midtown.""
I stared at the phone.
My mother had always told me she was renting.
She'd said the apartment was temporary and that she couldn't afford to buy property.
"She owns it?""
"Yes.""
"When did she buy it?""
"Eight years ago.""
I calculated quickly.
That was around the same time the trust account had been closed.
I looked at Helen.
She was watching me.
I turned back to the phone.
"Claire, do you know how much she paid?""
"About four hundred thousand.""
I ended the call.
Helen immediately understood.
"Another property?""
I nodded.
"An apartment in Midtown. My mother bought it eight years ago.""
"With trust money?""
"Apparently.""
Helen wrote it down.
"That's something we need to verify.""
I looked at David.
"Did you know she owned an apartment?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
I stood.
"I need to go home.""
Helen gathered the documents.
"I'll come with you.""
David stood too.
"So will I.""
I looked at him.
"I'm not ready to have you at my house.""
He nodded.
"I understand.""
I turned toward the door.
But before I could leave, Helen's phone rang.
She answered.
"Hello?""
She listened.
Then her expression changed.
"Are you certain?""
Another pause.
"Send me the file immediately.""
She ended the call and looked at me.
"What happened?""
Helen took a breath.
"Daniel Whitmore has submitted a response to the property inquiry.""
"What does it say?""
"He claims your mother had authority to act on your behalf because of an existing power of attorney.""
I stared.
"I never gave her power of attorney.""
Helen nodded.
"That's what I thought.""
She showed me the message.
Attached was a scanned document dated three years earlier.
It bore my name.
My address.
And a signature that looked exactly like mine.
I studied it.
Then I remembered.
Three years earlier, my mother had asked me to sign some paperwork while I was recovering from surgery.
She'd told me it was related to updating her emergency contact information.
I'd been exhausted.
I'd signed several pages without reading every line.
I felt my blood run cold.
"That's my signature.""
Helen examined the page.
"Did you read the document before signing?""
"No.""
"Do you remember what it was?""
"She told me it was an emergency contact form.""
Helen nodded.
"Then we need the original.""
I looked at the document again.
The power of attorney appeared to grant my mother authority to manage certain financial and property matters.
But there was a clause near the bottom.
A clause that gave her authority to transfer assets into a family-managed investment account.
I looked up.
"Can she use this to sell my house?""
Helen answered carefully.
"Not without further verification. The document may be limited, invalid, or revocable depending on its wording and execution. We need the original and a full legal review.""
I felt dizzy.
My mother had found a way to get my signature years earlier.
And now she was using that document to claim authority over my life.
I stared at the page.
"She planned this.""
Helen didn't answer.
She didn't need to.
We arrived at my house shortly after midnight.
The front lights were on.
My mother's car was parked in the driveway.
Inside, suitcases were lined up beside the staircase.
Claire stood near the kitchen.
Marcus was sitting on the sofa, his face buried in his hands.
My mother was carrying a jewelry box.
When she saw me, she stopped.
"Nia.""
I looked around.
"What's going on?""
She placed the jewelry box on the table.
"I'm leaving.""
I nodded.
"All right.""
She looked surprised.
"That's all you have to say?""
"What do you want me to say?""
"After everything I've done for you, you're throwing me out.""
I stared at her.
"I haven't asked you to leave.""
She looked toward Helen.
"Who is that?""
"My attorney.""
My mother immediately stiffened.
"You're bringing lawyers into this?""
"Someone used my identity to apply for a loan and attempted to sell my house. Yes, Mom. I'm bringing a lawyer into it.""
Marcus stood.
"Nia, we need to talk.""
I turned toward him.
"About what?""
He glanced at our mother.
Then he said:
"Mom wasn't the only person who knew about the power of attorney.""
I stared.
"What do you mean?""
Marcus looked at Claire.
Claire began crying.
My brother took a breath.
"Daniel helped us get the document prepared.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Prepared for what?""
He lowered his eyes.
"To transfer the house into the family investment company.""
I stared at him.
"Without my permission?""
He nodded.
Then he added something that made Helen immediately step forward.
"There's already a buyer.""
I felt the room go silent.
"Who?""
Marcus looked at my mother.
She began shaking her head.
But he continued.
"Raymond Pike.""
I stared.
"The man who lent Mom three hundred and sixty thousand dollars?""
Marcus nodded.
"He offered to buy the property directly. He says it's worth more than the original asking price.""
Helen immediately took out her phone.
"Nobody signs anything. Nobody transfers possession. Nobody removes documents from this property.""
My mother laughed bitterly.
"You're too late.""
I turned toward her.
"What does that mean?""
She reached into her handbag and removed a folded document.
Then she placed it on the kitchen counter.
"The purchase agreement was signed this afternoon.""
I stared at the paper.
The buyer's name was Raymond Pike.
The seller's name was listed as Nia Carter, represented by Evelyn Carter under power of attorney.
I looked at Helen.
She took the document and began reading.
Then her face changed.
She looked at the signature page.
"Nia, this is serious.""
My heart pounded.
"What?""
Helen pointed toward the bottom of the agreement.
"There's a closing date.""
I looked.
The date was tomorrow morning.
And beside the signature was a notarization stamp bearing the name of a notary I had never met.
My mother had arranged the sale.
My brother had helped.
Claire had witnessed the earlier paperwork.
Daniel had prepared the documents.
And now Raymond Pike was waiting to take ownership of my home.
I looked at my mother.
"How could you do this?""
She met my eyes.
For the first time, she didn't pretend she was helping me.
She simply said:
"Because you were never supposed to keep that house, Nia.""
Then she picked up her handbag.
And walked toward the front door.
I watched her leave.
But Helen was already on the phone.
"Yes, I need an emergency property fraud review. The closing is scheduled for tomorrow morning, and the registered owner has not authorized the sale.""
She listened.
Then she looked at me.
Her voice became quieter.
"There's another problem.""
I stepped closer.
"What?""
Helen covered the phone.
"The purchase agreement contains a clause stating that the property is already subject to a secured financial interest.""
I frowned.
"What secured interest?""
She looked at the document again.
Then she said the words that made my knees weak.
"Someone has already recorded a lien against your house.""
And when she turned the page, I saw the amount.
Four hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
The exact amount Marcus had borrowed.
My brother hadn't merely used my house as collateral in a private agreement.
May you like
Someone had already placed a financial claim against the property.
And tomorrow morning, unless we stopped it, they intended to sell my home to settle a debt I had never agreed to owe.
