Chapter 8: Before My Birthday
My eighteenth birthday was twelve days away.
I sat on the stairs with that number pounding inside my head.
Twelve days.
Once Emily turns eighteen, we lose control of everything.
Dad paced across the living room.
Madison sat on the couch, twisting her fingers together.
“Tell me exactly what you heard,” Dad said.
Madison nodded.
“It was last November.””
“Where?””
“In Mom’s bedroom.””
Dad stopped.
“Our bedroom?””
Madison looked uncomfortable.
“You were working late. I came upstairs because I needed her charger.””
She took a breath.
“The door was partly open. Mom was on the phone.””
“With whom?””
“I don’t know.””
“What did she say?””
Madison closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“She said, ‘The girl turns eighteen in October. After that, Daniel can’t sign anything for her.’”
Dad went still.
My stomach dropped.
“What could Dad sign for me?””
He looked at me.
“As your parent, I could approve certain financial matters while you were a minor.””
“And Vanessa?””
“Not automatically.””
Madison looked at him.
“But if you signed something?””
Dad’s face changed.
“Yes.””
I suddenly remembered all the papers Vanessa had brought to Dad over the years.
Insurance forms.
School documents.
Tax documents.
Things he signed at the kitchen counter while answering work emails.
My mouth went dry.
“Dad.””
He looked at me.
“How many things did you sign without reading them?””
The question hurt him.
I saw it immediately.
“Too many.””
I stood.
“Because you trusted her.””
“Yes.””
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was.
But when I looked at him, I saw a man realizing his trust had been used against his own child.
Dad pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling Mr. Brennan.””
“Who?””
“Your mother’s estate attorney.””
He walked into the kitchen.
Twenty minutes later, he returned wearing his coat.
“He still has copies of Laura’s original documents.””
“Tonight?””
“He said this can’t wait.””
An hour later, we were sitting inside a quiet office downtown.
Mr. Brennan was in his sixties, with silver hair and tired eyes.
When he saw me, his expression softened.
“You look like your mother.””
That almost broke me.
“Did you know her well?””
“For seventeen years.””
He opened a thick file.
“Laura planned carefully.””
Dad placed the suspicious documents on his desk.
Mr. Brennan read them.
His expression changed.
“This isn’t from my office.””
Dad leaned forward.
“What?””
“This authorization.””
He held up the document carrying Mom’s impossible signature.
“I never prepared this.””
I stared at him.
“Could Mom have signed it somewhere else?””
“Not on that date.””
He looked directly at me.
“Your mother was already deceased.””
The words hit differently when a lawyer said them.
Officially.
Coldly.
Final.
Dad pointed toward Vanessa’s name.
“She’s listed as a witness.””
Mr. Brennan nodded.
“That concerns me.””
Dad exhaled.
“What was Laura’s actual estate plan?””
Mr. Brennan opened another folder.
“The vehicle was Emily’s.””
I nodded.
“The education fund was protected for Emily’s benefit.””
My hands tightened.
“And there was another account.””
I looked up.
“What account?””
Dad frowned.
“I don’t remember another account.””
Mr. Brennan looked surprised.
“Daniel, Laura discussed it with you.””
“When?””
“Near the end.””
Dad’s face fell.
Those final months had been chaos.
Hospitals.
Medication.
Sleepless nights.
Mom fading a little more every week.
Mr. Brennan continued.
“She created a separate custodial account.””
“For what?”” I asked.
“Your first year after graduation.””
My throat tightened.
“How much?””
He checked the paperwork.
“At the time of her death, approximately forty-eight thousand dollars.””
I stopped breathing.
Dad whispered, “What?””
Mr. Brennan looked between us.
“That money was intended for tuition, housing, transportation, or whatever Emily needed to begin adulthood.””
My voice shook.
“Where is it?””
Mr. Brennan turned to his computer.
“According to the original instructions, control should transfer directly to Emily at eighteen.””
Twelve days.
My birthday.
Dad leaned forward.
“Can anyone access it before then?””
Mr. Brennan hesitated.
“A custodian can make withdrawals for Emily’s legitimate benefit.””
“Who was the custodian?””
He looked at Dad.
“You.””
Dad frowned.
“I never withdrew anything.””
Mr. Brennan typed something.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
“What?””
Dad stood.
Mr. Brennan looked at the screen again.
“There were withdrawals.””
“How many?””
“Several.””
Dad’s voice hardened.
“I didn’t make them.””
Mr. Brennan looked at him.
“Then someone represented themselves as acting under your authority.””
The office became silent.
I thought about Vanessa putting papers in front of Dad.
Sign here.
Initial there.
Just insurance.
Just school.
Just taxes.
Mr. Brennan printed a page.
He placed it in front of us.
Dad read it first.
Then pushed it toward me.
A withdrawal authorization.
Thirty-two thousand dollars.
Approved six months earlier.
Dad’s signature appeared at the bottom.
He stared at it.
“That looks like mine.””
I looked at him.
“Did you sign it?””
“No.””
Then Mr. Brennan pointed to something beneath Dad’s signature.
A handwritten note.
“Funds authorized for dependent housing expenses.””
Housing.
Dad frowned.
“We didn’t move.””
Mr. Brennan searched the transaction.
Then his expression became even more serious.
“The funds were transferred to a property company.””
“What property company?”” I asked.
He read the name.
Madison suddenly stood up.
“No.””
We all looked at her.
Her face had gone white.
“I know that name.””
“From where?””
May you like
She looked at me.
“That’s the company that owns Mom’s condo.””
