CHAPTER 6
Naomi told me not to return to the café.
I wanted to.
Godfrey was less than thirty feet away.
I could see him through the window holding the same pen he had tried to put in my hand.
But Phedra’s words returned to me.
Please don’t go after them alone.
So I stayed in Naomi’s car.
“Take a picture of the message Martin sent you,” she said.
I did.
“Now send it to me.”
I did.
“Good.”
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
I stared at her.
“My brother forged my signature.”
“Someone forged your signature.”
“You sound like a lawyer.”
“I am a lawyer.”
I almost smiled despite myself.
She continued.
“You need facts strong enough to survive people lying about them.”
That sentence stayed with me.
People lying.
That was exactly what Selina and Godfrey had depended on for years.
Phedra lying.
Doctors exaggerating.
Money being tight.
Letters never arriving.
Every cruelty had been wrapped in another story.
Now we needed something stories could not erase.
Records.
Martin’s firm froze all settlement activity except communication with me through a new secure channel.
The funds would remain untouched until verification was complete.
The original nine-day schedule no longer mattered legally.
But Selina and Godfrey did not know that.
To them, the clock was still moving.
Six days.
That evening, Phedra received the pathology result.
Dr. Mensah entered with another physician.
I knew before she spoke that the conversation would be difficult.
The cancer was aggressive.
It had grown significantly during the months without treatment.
But the additional imaging still showed no confirmed distant metastasis.
Dr. Mensah looked directly at Phedra.
“We are treating with curative intent.”
Phedra covered her mouth.
I closed my eyes.
Curative.
One word.
I had never loved a word more.
“It won’t be easy,” the doctor continued. “You are weak. We need to build your strength enough to tolerate treatment.”
“I’ll do anything.”
“We’ll help you do it.”
Phedra started crying.
I did too.
Not because everything was fixed.
Nothing was.
But hope had stopped feeling dishonest.
That night, she ate half a plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables.
She apologized for not finishing.
I stared at her.
“Never apologize to me for food again.”
She smiled faintly.
“You always hated leftovers.”
“I have changed.”
“You’ve been home three days.”
“Life-changing three days.”
Her smile grew.
Then her expression became serious.
“What will happen to Selina?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Godfrey?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they going to prison?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
She looked relieved by my answer.
I understood why.
She did not need me promising destruction.
She needed truth.
The next morning, Naomi arranged a formal report regarding the attempted settlement fraud.
Martin’s firm provided records.
I provided proof that I had not sent the email.
An investigator interviewed me for nearly two hours.
“What makes you suspect your relatives?”
“Missing identity documents.”
“Anything else?”
I showed him Godfrey’s proposed authorization.
Then Phedra’s notebook.
Then the old messages where Selina requested money supposedly for medical expenses.
The investigator photographed everything.
“We’ll need bank records.”
“I’ll authorize them.”
“We may need to speak with your wife.”
“When she’s medically able.”
He nodded.
Unlike Selina, he did not treat Phedra’s illness as an inconvenience.
That afternoon, Godfrey called.
I answered on speaker while Naomi listened.
“Where are you?”
“With Phedra.”
“You embarrassed me yesterday.”
“How?”
“You walked out.”
“I said I’d consider your proposal.”
“You acted like I was stealing from you.”
I looked at Naomi.
She wrote one word on a legal pad.
Listen.
Godfrey continued.
“Mom says you’ve always been selfish with money.”
I nearly laughed.
“Interesting.”
“We helped build everything here while you were gone.”
“With whose money?”
Silence.
Then he snapped, “Money doesn’t build anything by itself.”
“No. Apparently my wife does.”
“What?”
“Did she clean the house?”
“Don’t start.”
“Cook?”
“Damian.”
“Wash your clothes?”
“Stop.”
“Sleep in a shed?”
He cursed.
“That was Mom’s decision.”
There it was.
I looked at Naomi.
She underlined something.
“Did you agree with it?” I asked.
“She was sick.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Everyone had to make sacrifices.”
“What sacrifice did you make?”
Godfrey hung up.
Naomi smiled without humor.
“Useful.”
“What part?”
“He placed responsibility for the shed on your mother while admitting knowledge of it.”
I leaned back.
“I’m beginning to understand why lawyers ask annoying questions.”
“We practice.”
Later, Aunt Bernice appeared at the hospital.
She was not allowed into Phedra’s room until Phedra approved it.
Phedra surprised me.
“Let her come.”
Bernice entered looking uncomfortable.
She carried no flowers.
No food.
Only her handbag.
She stared at Phedra for several seconds.
“My God.”
Phedra stiffened.
Bernice’s eyes filled.
“I didn’t know.”
Nobody spoke.
“I thought Selina was exaggerating when she said you were sick.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity.
Phedra’s bald head was visible beneath a scarf.
“She told us you refused treatment,” Bernice continued.
Phedra looked at her.
“I begged for treatment.”
Bernice sat slowly.
“She said Damian stopped sending enough money.”
I pulled out my phone.
“I sent over twenty-seven thousand last year.”
Bernice stared at me.
“What?”
I showed her transfers.
Her face drained of color.
Then she opened her handbag.
“I came because there’s something you need to hear.”
She took out her phone.
“Last Christmas, Selina sent me voice messages.”
My mother had forgotten Bernice saved everything.
The first recording began with laughter.
Selina’s voice filled the hospital room.
Damian sends money like he’s afraid we’ll starve.
Godfrey laughed in the background.
Then Selina continued.
That sick girl keeps asking about doctors. I told her we’re not throwing good money after bad. Godfrey’s shop will feed the family for years. Her treatments might not buy her another year.
Phedra stopped breathing.
I reached for her.
Bernice turned off the recording.
“I’m sorry.”
Phedra stared at the wall.
For months, she had wondered whether Selina simply misunderstood the seriousness of her cancer.
Now we had the answer.
She knew.
And she chose the auto shop anyway.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Selina.
Five days, Damian.
Think carefully about who your real family is.
I looked at Phedra.
Then at Bernice’s phone.
May you like
For the first time since coming home, I realized Selina was right about one thing.
I finally knew exactly who my real family was.
