Chapter 5: The Woman Her Father Tried to Erase
Tasha sat on the edge of the bed with the phone pressed against her ear.
I could hear Denise breathing on the other end.
For a moment, neither woman spoke.
Then Tasha whispered, “What do you mean, something I can find out?””
“Your mother appointed an independent trustee to oversee certain transactions,” Denise said.
“Marcus handled day-to-day management when you were underage, but he wasn't supposed to have unrestricted authority over the entire account.””
Tasha stared at the trust agreement.
“Why didn't you tell me that before?””
“Because I thought your father had explained everything. And because every time I tried to contact you, I was told you didn't want to speak to me.””
“I never received your letters.””
Denise fell silent.
Then she said, “I suspected that might be the case.””
My stomach tightened.
“How could someone stop letters from reaching her?”” I asked.
Tasha turned the phone toward me.
“This is my sister, Maya,” she told her aunt.
“She's the one who found the bank notice.””
“Hello, Maya,” Denise said.
“Thank you for staying with Tasha.””
“I'm trying,” I replied.
“But we need to understand what's happening.””
“You're both going to need help from someone who understands trusts and estate law. I can help you find an attorney, but first I need you to tell me exactly what happened today.””
Tasha explained everything.
The Highlander.
The bank notice.
The forty-nine thousand eight hundred dollars.
The argument in the driveway.
Marcus taking the notice from her hand.
And the threat to make her leave the house.
Denise listened without interrupting.
When Tasha finished, her aunt released a shaky breath.
“Your mother would be devastated.””
Tasha's face crumpled.
“I don't understand why he would do this.””
“I don't know yet,” Denise replied.
“And I won't pretend to know his motives until we see the records. But I know your mother would never have wanted you to believe you had to earn the right to your own future.””
Tasha wiped her cheeks.
“He said the investments lost money.””
“Then we need the statements showing that.””
“He said the transfer was temporary.””
“Then we need documentation of where the money went and how it was supposed to be repaid.””
“He said I was too emotional to manage it.””
Denise's voice sharpened.
“Your grief does not make you incapable of understanding your own finances.””
Tasha covered her mouth.
I watched her struggle to process those words.
Six years of being told she was difficult, immature, ungrateful, and too emotional had left her unsure whether she was even entitled to ask basic questions.
Now someone who had known her mother was telling her she had every right to seek answers.
“What happens if the money is gone?”” Tasha asked.
“We find out what happened before we decide what comes next.””
“And if Dad refuses to cooperate?””
“Then we use the legal process available to you.””
Tasha glanced at me.
“Could he really get in trouble?””
“If he used trust assets for an unauthorized purpose, there could be serious consequences. But I won't make promises about an outcome before an attorney reviews the documents.””
That answer comforted me more than a dramatic accusation would have.
Denise wasn't trying to frighten us or convince us she already knew everything.
She was telling us what we needed to establish.
Then she asked, “Do you still have your mother's original trust agreement?””
Tasha looked at the folder.
“Yes.””
“Keep it secure. Photograph every page and send me copies. Don't give the original to anyone unless your attorney advises you to.””
Tasha nodded.
“Okay.””
“And Tasha?””
“Yes?””
“You don't have to go through this alone anymore.””
For the first time since the confrontation began, Tasha smiled.
It was small and fragile, but it was real.
After the call ended, we sat together reviewing the documents. We photographed each page, saved copies in two separate email accounts, and wrote down the names of everyone mentioned in the trust agreement.
I made a list of questions for the attorney Denise promised to contact the following morning.
Who authorized the transfer?
Was the dealership payment made directly from the trust?
Had any other withdrawals occurred?
What rights did Tasha have now that she was nineteen?
And why had the annual statements stopped three years earlier?
We were halfway through the list when someone knocked on the door.
This time, it was my mother.
“Tasha? Can we talk?””
Tasha looked at me.
I shrugged.
“You don't have to open it if you don't want to.””
After a long pause, she unlocked the door.
Nia entered alone.
She looked tired. Her carefully styled hair had begun to loosen, and her makeup was smudged beneath one eye.
For a moment, she looked less like the polished woman who had stood beside the Highlander and more like someone who had been crying.
“Can we have a private conversation?”” she asked.
Tasha glanced at me.
“Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of Maya.””
My mother's lips tightened.
“I'm trying to repair this family.””
“Then tell me the truth.””
Nia sat in the chair beside the desk.
She folded her hands in her lap.
“Your father has been under enormous pressure.””
Tasha's expression went blank.
“That's not the truth. That's an excuse.””
My mother flinched.
“He's had business problems. There have been unexpected expenses. He was trying to keep everything together.””
“Did you know the money came from my trust?””
“I knew he had access to the account.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
Nia looked away.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I knew he had used some of it.””
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
“Did you know he was buying Maya a car with it?””
My mother hesitated.
“I knew he was arranging a large purchase. I didn't ask enough questions.””
Tasha laughed bitterly.
“You didn't ask enough questions when it was my money, but you had no trouble planning a surprise party when it was being spent on Maya.””
“Maya didn't know where the money came from.””
“I know that,” Tasha replied.
“I'm not blaming her.””
My mother looked at me.
I could see her waiting for me to rescue her from the conversation, to say that everyone made mistakes and that we should move forward.
I didn't.
Nia turned back to Tasha.
“I never wanted you to feel unwanted.””
“Then why did you let Dad treat me like a burden?””
“I tried to keep the peace.””
“You kept the peace by making me pay for it.””
My mother began to cry.
Tasha's face softened for a second, and I knew she wanted to comfort her.
That was Tasha's instinct. Even when someone hurt her, she looked for a way to make their pain easier.
But this time, she stayed where she was.
“Did you know Aunt Denise was trying to contact me?”” she asked.
My mother stopped crying.
The change was so sudden that I noticed it immediately.
“What?””
“Did you know she was trying to reach me?””
Nia looked at the floor.
Tasha leaned forward.
“Mom left a note telling me to speak to Denise if anything happened to her. Dad said Aunt Denise wanted to take me away and steal the trust money. But Denise says she was sending letters and annual account summaries.””
My mother rubbed her forehead.
“I didn't know about the letters.””
“Did you know Dad told her I didn't want contact?””
“I might have heard him mention something.””
“Something?””
Nia looked up.
“I don't remember exactly.””
Tasha stared at her.
“You always remember when I disappoint you. You remember every time I forget a dish or come home ten minutes late from work. But when I ask whether you helped keep my own aunt away from me, suddenly you don't remember.””
My mother looked wounded.
“That isn't fair.””
“No,” Tasha said quietly.
“It isn't.””
Nia stood.
“I came here hoping we could talk without accusations.””
“I'm asking questions.””
“And I am trying to answer them!””
“Then answer this one. Did you help Dad hide the trust statements?””
My mother's face lost its color.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Then she whispered, “I signed something.””
My heart began pounding.
Tasha stood slowly.
“What did you sign?””
“I don't know if it was connected to the trust.””
“You signed something connected to my money and you don't know what it was?””
“Your father told me it was routine paperwork.””
“Where is it?””
Nia shook her head.
“I don't know.””
Tasha stared at her mother as though she were looking at a stranger.
For six years, Nia had insisted that she treated both daughters equally. She had smiled in photographs beside Tasha, bought her inexpensive Christmas presents, and told relatives how proud she was of her stepdaughter.
But when Tasha needed someone to question Marcus, Nia had looked away.
Now she had admitted to signing an unidentified document connected to the money Tasha's mother left behind.
“Please,” my mother whispered.
“Don't turn this into something that destroys the family.””
Tasha's eyes filled again.
“You keep asking me to protect the family. Who has been protecting me?””
Nia had no answer.
She left the room without another word.
I locked the door behind her.
Tasha sat down, staring at the empty chair.
“I don't know if I can ever trust her again.””
I sat beside her.
“You don't have to decide that tonight.””
She nodded, but her eyes remained fixed on the doorway.
A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
An email had arrived from Denise.
It contained the name and contact information of an attorney who specialized in trusts and estate disputes.
There was also a short message.
I've requested copies of the records I was entitled to receive. Before we make any accusations, let's find out what the documents show.
Tasha read it twice.
Then another notification appeared.
It was from the bank.
A security alert.
The message stated that a recent transaction had triggered a review of the account's activity. Additional information would be available once the account holder's identity and authority were verified.
Tasha stared at the screen.
“What does that mean?””
“I don't know,” I said.
She opened the notification and followed the instructions to request a formal transaction history.
A few seconds later, the bank confirmed receipt of her request.
Then her phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar.
She answered cautiously.
“Hello?””
A woman's professional voice came through the speaker.
“Good evening. My name is Patricia, and I'm calling from the bank's trust services department. We received your request concerning an account established by your late mother.””
Tasha gripped my hand.
“Yes?””
“We need to verify your identity before discussing specific transactions. However, I can confirm that the account has a designated independent fiduciary contact, and our records indicate that the contact information on file may be outdated.””
Tasha looked at me.
“Who is the contact?””
“I'm not authorized to disclose that until verification is complete.””
“Can you tell me whether the money was transferred to a car dealership?””
There was a pause.
“I can tell you that your request has been escalated for review. Someone from our trust administration team will contact you during business hours.””
The call ended.
Tasha lowered the phone.
Neither of us spoke for several seconds.
Then she opened the email from Denise again.
“Independent trustee,” she whispered.
I looked at the trust agreement on the bed.
A name appeared on one of the final pages, beneath a paragraph neither of us had examined carefully.
*Evelyn Brooks — Independent Trustee.*
Tasha stared at it.
“I've never heard of her.””
I looked toward the door, remembering the way Marcus had panicked when he saw the documents.
Maybe he hadn't been afraid of us discovering that the money had been spent.
May you like
Maybe he'd been afraid of us discovering who had the authority to investigate it.
And somewhere in the house, Marcus knew that we had finally found a name he couldn't control.
