Chapter 6: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Dad grabbed the phone.
"That's impossible. My daughter is seventeen!""
Officer Harris replied calmly.
"That's why we're investigating. The document appears to have been prepared several weeks ago.""
Margaret leaned forward.
"Officer, who witnessed the signature?""
There was a pause.
"Nicole Bennett.""
Dad closed his eyes.
Of course.
Even after everything, Nicole was still trying to take what belonged to me.
"Is Daniel still there?"" Dad asked.
"Yes. He's being questioned. But he keeps asking for his attorney.""
Margaret took the phone.
"Please secure the document. Do not allow anyone to remove it.""
She ended the call and immediately began gathering the files.
"We need to go to the bank.""
Dad shook his head.
"The police have Daniel.""
"That doesn't mean the evidence is safe. If he had a forged transfer document, there may be others.""
I looked at the key.
"Can we open the box now?""
Margaret hesitated.
"Your mother left instructions that it should remain sealed until your eighteenth birthday unless there was evidence of attempted fraud or danger to you.""
She glanced at Dad.
"I believe those conditions have been met.""
We drove to the bank with Margaret.
The manager, Mr. Peterson, met us in a private office.
He was a nervous-looking man who kept adjusting his glasses.
"Ms. Collins, I'm very sorry about this situation.""
Margaret placed the brass key on his desk.
"We need access to Box 417.""
He nodded.
"Of course.""
A few minutes later, we stood in the bank's secure vault.
The metal door closed behind us.
Mr. Peterson opened the safety deposit drawer.
It was smaller than I'd imagined.
Inside sat three envelopes, a USB drive, a photograph album, and a sealed document with my name written across the front.
MAYA ISABELLE BENNETT.
My hands trembled as I picked it up.
Dad stood beside me.
"Take your time, sweetheart.""
I opened the envelope.
The first thing I saw was a photograph of Mom holding me as a baby.
Behind it was a handwritten letter.
My beautiful Maya,
If you're reading this before your eighteenth birthday, it means someone has tried to take away the future I worked so hard to protect for you.
My eyes filled with tears.
I continued.
I wanted you to grow up believing the world was safe. I wanted you to have a childhood filled with birthday cakes, school dances, and ordinary worries.
But I discovered something that frightened me.
Daniel has been stealing from our family. Nicole is helping him. They believe they can take control of your inheritance by making you appear unfit to receive it.
Dad's hand covered his mouth.
I kept reading.
Richard doesn't know everything. I haven't told him because I believe someone has been monitoring our conversations. If I disappear, I need you to understand that none of this is your fault.
I couldn't hold back my tears.
Mom had known.
She had been afraid.
And she'd been preparing to protect me.
The letter continued.
The USB drive contains financial records and a recording of a conversation that changed everything. Please give it to Margaret. Do not listen to it alone.
I looked at the small black drive.
Margaret carefully placed it inside an evidence envelope.
Then she opened the second folder.
Inside were bank statements showing hundreds of thousands of dollars transferred into an account registered to a company called Carter Holdings.
Dad recognized the name.
"That's Daniel's old company.""
Margaret nodded.
"There's another account.""
She pointed to the last page.
The account holder was Nicole Bennett.
Dad stared at the document.
"She had her own account?""
"Yes. And according to these records, the transfers continued for nearly two years after Isabelle's death.""
I looked at the dates.
The most recent transfer had been made just last month.
Nicole wasn't simply hiding an old affair.
She was still stealing.
Then Margaret examined the final envelope.
It contained a photograph of my mother standing beside a woman I didn't recognize.
On the back, Mom had written:
The only person who knows what happened that night.
"Who is she?"" I asked.
Margaret studied the woman's face.
Then her expression shifted.
"That's Rebecca.""
Dad frowned.
"Rebecca who?""
"Rebecca Miller. She worked for your brother's company. She was the last person to speak to Isabelle before the accident.""
I stared at the photograph.
"Where is she now?""
Margaret checked the back of the picture.
There was an address written underneath the message.
She entered it into her phone.
Then she stopped.
"Richard, we need to be careful.""
"Why?""
"Rebecca disappeared three days after Isabelle's funeral.""
Dad looked stunned.
"Disappeared?""
Margaret nodded.
"Her apartment was emptied. Her employment records were deleted. Nobody heard from her again.""
I looked at the USB drive.
"Maybe she's still alive.""
Margaret placed the photograph into her folder.
"If she is, she may be the only person who can tell us exactly what happened to your mother.""
Dad took my hand.
"We'll find her.""
Before we could leave, his phone rang.
The screen displayed Nicole's name.
He answered on speaker.
"What do you want?""
Her voice sounded unusually calm.
"Richard, I want to see Ethan.""
"Not until the police have spoken to you.""
"He's my son.""
"And Maya is my daughter. Yet you tried to destroy her.""
Nicole sighed.
"You're making a terrible mistake.""
Dad said nothing.
Then Nicole lowered her voice.
"Have you opened Isabelle's box?""
Dad's eyes narrowed.
"How do you know about that?""
A short silence followed.
Then she laughed.
"Because I know exactly what's inside.""
My blood ran cold.
Nicole continued.
"There's a black USB drive, isn't there?""
Margaret and Dad exchanged a look.
"How do you know that?"" Dad demanded.
Nicole ignored the question.
"Listen carefully, Richard. Do not play that recording.""
"Why?""
Her voice suddenly broke.
"Because it isn't Daniel's voice you're going to hear.""
Dad gripped the phone.
"Then whose voice is it?""
Nicole whispered six words that made my knees weaken.
"You're going to hear your own voice.""
May you like
The call ended.
And for the first time, I wondered whether my father had been protecting us—or whether someone had been using him for eight years without his knowledge.
