Chapter 2: The Secret Beneath Grandma's Jewelry Box
I read Grandma's letter three times before I could convince myself it was real.
The paper smelled faintly of lavender.
Her handwriting was slightly shaky, but unmistakable.
My dearest Avery,
If you're reading this, something has happened that I prayed would never happen. Your father has continued to lie about my wishes, and I fear he will try to take from you what I worked my entire life to protect.
I sat on the edge of Tessa's guest bed.
My hands trembled.
The letter continued.
The house on Willow Creek Road was purchased by your grandfather and me in 1978. We paid off the original mortgage years ago. Before I became ill, I arranged for the property to pass directly to you through my attorney.
I stopped reading.
Paid off?
My parents had told me the mortgage was $1,845 every month.
I had been transferring that exact amount into an account Dad called the household mortgage account.
For four years.
I looked at the letter again.
Your father asked me to leave the property to Derek. He said your brother needed a financial foundation. I refused. When I explained that you had been the only grandchild who visited me without asking for money, he became angry.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I remembered that afternoon.
I was twenty-six.
Grandma had been sitting in her living room, wrapped in a knitted blanket, while Dad argued with her in the kitchen.
I had heard him say, "You always choose Avery!""
Grandma had answered, "I choose the person who deserves it.""
At the time, I hadn't understood what they were discussing.
Now I did.
The letter continued.
I have made arrangements with my attorney, Margaret Ellis. She has the original documents and instructions. Do not trust any papers your father gives you.
Then came the final paragraph.
*There is one more thing you must know. I discovered that Richard had been borrowing money against the property without my permission. I confronted him.
He promised he would stop. If he has continued, Margaret will know where to look.*
I lowered the letter.
Borrowing against the property?
My phone buzzed.
It was Ivy.
*Ivy:* Are you reading Grandma's letter?
*Me:* Yes. Where did you find the will?
*Ivy:* Dad's desk. Behind some tax folders.
*Me:* Did he see you?
*Ivy:* Not yet. But Avery, there's more.
I immediately called her.
She answered on the first ring.
"Are you alone?"" I whispered.
"Yes. I'm in my room.""
"Tell me what you found.""
"I found a folder with your name on it. It has bank documents.""
My stomach tightened.
"What kind of bank documents?""
"Something called a home equity loan.""
I closed my eyes.
"Read me the amount.""
There was a pause.
"Three hundred and ten thousand dollars.""
I couldn't breathe.
"Whose name is on it?""
"Yours.""
I gripped the edge of the bed.
"That's impossible.""
"I know. But your signature is everywhere.""
"Take pictures of everything. Don't touch anything else.""
"I already did.""
A notification appeared on my phone.
Three photographs.
The first showed a home equity loan agreement dated eighteen months earlier.
The second showed a signature that looked disturbingly like mine.
The third showed a transfer confirmation.
$310,000.
Recipient: Derek Bennett.
I stared at the screen.
My brother had received $310,000 using a loan supposedly taken out in my name.
"Did Derek buy something?"" I asked.
Ivy hesitated.
"He bought a truck. And he invested in some online business. Mom said he was starting a company.""
"Where did the rest go?""
"I don't know.""
I heard a door slam somewhere in Ivy's background.
Then a man's voice.
"Who's in there?""
Ivy whispered, "Dad.""
My heart began pounding.
"Put the phone down," I said.
"Don't argue with him.""
A moment later, the call disconnected.
I immediately called her back.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
It was Dad.
I answered.
"Where is Ivy?""
"Your sister is fine," he snapped.
"You need to stop filling her head with nonsense.""
"Did you take a loan in my name?""
"Don't be ridiculous.""
"I have the documents, Dad.""
A pause.
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"You signed those papers voluntarily.""
"I never signed anything!""
"Maybe you forgot.""
"Three hundred and ten thousand dollars? How could I forget?""
His voice became louder.
"Your brother needed help. We were trying to protect the family.""
"By committing fraud?""
"Watch your mouth!""
I stood up.
"You used my identity to borrow money and gave the proceeds to Derek?""
"That money was invested in the family.""
"Where is it?""
Silence.
Then Dad changed tactics.
"Avery, listen to me. Your mother is very upset. Derek is under enormous pressure. We can work this out privately.""
I almost laughed.
"Privately? You threw me out in front of the entire family yesterday.""
"That was a family disagreement.""
"No. This is a crime.""
His breathing became heavy.
"You have no idea what you're talking about.""
"Then explain the property deed.""
He went quiet.
I continued.
"Grandma left me the house. You knew that. You told me there was nothing to inherit. You let me pay a mortgage on a property that might not even have had a mortgage.""
"That house is ours!""
"Then show me the mortgage statement.""
Nothing.
I heard Mom speaking behind him.
"Richard, tell her about the taxes!""
He covered the phone badly.
But I heard enough.
"What taxes?"" I demanded.
Dad immediately lowered his voice.
"Bring Grandma's box back. We can discuss everything tomorrow.""
"No.""
"Avery.""
"No.""
"You don't understand what you've gotten yourself into.""
I ended the call.
Tessa appeared in the doorway holding two mugs of tea.
"What's happening?""
I handed her the photographs.
She read the first page, then the second.
By the time she reached the transfer confirmation, her expression had changed.
"Avery, you need a lawyer.""
"I know.""
"And don't go back there alone.""
I nodded.
That night, I contacted Margaret Ellis, the attorney named in Grandma's letter.
Her office voicemail said she was available Monday morning.
I left a message.
Then I searched my email for old bank statements.
I found the first mortgage transfer from four years earlier.
The recipient account belonged to my father.
Not the mortgage company.
I downloaded every transaction.
Forty-eight payments.
$88,560.
And that was only the mortgage.
I was still calculating the utilities when my phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice spoke.
"Is this Avery Bennett?""
"Yes.""
"My name is Caroline Hayes. I'm calling from First National Bank's fraud investigation department.""
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"Why?""
"Ms. Bennett, we received an inquiry concerning a home equity loan associated with your identity.""
"I didn't apply for that loan.""
"I understand. We need to verify some information.""
"Is the loan in default?""
There was a pause.
"Yes. The account is currently delinquent, and the outstanding balance is under review.""
My stomach dropped.
"Can you tell me who received the funds?""
"I'm afraid I can't disclose all transaction details until verification is complete.""
"I have a transfer confirmation showing the money went to my brother.""
Another pause.
Then Caroline said:
"Ms. Bennett, there's something else you should know.""
I sat down.
"What?""
"The property listed as collateral for this loan is 418 Willow Creek Road.""
Grandma's house.
My house.
I closed my eyes.
Then she continued.
"Our records indicate that the loan was approved using a deed transfer recorded approximately six years ago.""
"Who transferred the property?""
"I can send you the recorded document.""
"Please do.""
A notification appeared seconds later.
I opened the attachment.
The document showed Grandma's property being transferred to my name.
But the signature beneath mine was dated three days after Grandma's funeral.
And the witness signature belonged to my father.
I stared at the screen.
Caroline spoke again.
"Ms. Bennett, do you recognize the notary listed here?""
I looked at the name.
Then everything inside me went cold.
The notary was my mother's younger brother.
My uncle, Peter.
And according to the bank's records, he had personally certified that I signed the deed.
I whispered, "I never met him that day.""
Caroline paused.
"Then I strongly recommend you contact an attorney immediately.""
Before I could respond, another email arrived.
It was from Ivy.
The subject line contained only four words.
*GRANDMA'S DEATH CERTIFICATE.*
May you like
And underneath it, she had written:
Avery, Dad lied about the day Grandma died.
