Chapter 8: The Secret Behind the Locked Cabinet
Raymond refused to open the envelope in the conference room.
He wanted the original documents from his house, including his notary journal and the papers my mother had entrusted to him.
Elise agreed to accompany us.
The competition director arranged for the relevant competition files to be secured while the investigation continued.
My father insisted on coming.
Nobody invited him.
Nobody stopped him either.
An hour later, we arrived at Raymond's house on the north side of Atlanta.
It was a modest brick home with a white porch and an enormous oak tree beside the driveway. I remembered spending weekends there as a little girl, eating pancakes while my mother and uncle argued about which fabric store had the best prices.
The memories made my chest ache.
Raymond unlocked the front door.
"Your mother loved this place," he said.
I looked around the living room.
There were still photographs of Danielle on the walls.
One showed her holding me as a baby. Another showed us sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by fabric scraps.
I touched the frame.
"I thought everyone had forgotten her.""
Raymond shook his head.
"I could never forget my sister.""
Behind us, my father cleared his throat.
"Can we get this over with?""
Raymond turned.
"That's what you said six years ago when you stopped bringing Nia to see me.""
He walked toward a narrow hallway.
At the end was a small room with a wooden door and a brass lock.
"My office," he explained.
"Your mother helped me renovate it.""
Inside, everything smelled faintly of cedar and old paper.
A desk stood beneath the window. Filing cabinets lined one wall. An old sewing machine sat in the corner beneath a protective cloth.
I recognized it immediately.
It was my mother's.
I approached it slowly.
"Is this the machine she used to make my first dress?""
Raymond nodded.
"She kept it here after she stopped designing.""
I ran my fingers over the wooden surface.
"Why didn't Dad give it to me?""
Nobody answered.
Raymond unlocked a filing cabinet and removed a thick notebook.
"This is my official notary journal. Every transaction is recorded here.""
Elise examined the dates.
"Show me the week this transfer was supposedly notarized.""
He opened the book.
His finger moved down the page.
"Here.""
There was no entry for my signature.
No record of the transfer.
No record of the death certificate.
Elise leaned closer.
"You're certain this is the original journal?""
"Absolutely. I've maintained it for twenty-three years.""
My father shifted uncomfortably.
Raymond noticed.
"Looking for something, Marcus?""
"I'm just tired.""
"You should have thought about that before you put my name on a forged document.""
I looked at my uncle.
"Can we prove Dad used your seal?""
Raymond nodded toward a small television mounted above the desk.
"Possibly.""
He switched on the old security system.
The screen displayed several camera angles of his property.
He selected a date from two years earlier.
The footage showed the front door.
A familiar black SUV pulled into the driveway.
My father's vehicle.
Then Vanessa stepped out.
She carried a large handbag and looked around before entering the house.
Raymond fast-forwarded.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged carrying a thick folder.
My breath caught.
"That's her.""
Raymond nodded.
"I discovered my seal was missing the following morning.""
Elise leaned toward the screen.
"Can we enlarge that?""
Raymond adjusted the controls.
The footage became clearer.
Vanessa was holding something small in her right hand.
A leather case.
Raymond went completely still.
"That's my notary case.""
I turned toward him.
"What does that mean?""
"It means she didn't just take the stamp. She took the entire case containing my spare seals and identification records.""
My father suddenly moved toward the television.
"Enough. This proves nothing.""
Elise stepped between him and the desk.
"Then why are you so desperate to turn it off?""
Marcus stopped.
Raymond rewound the footage.
A second camera angle showed Vanessa entering the hallway.
Then something unexpected happened.
She wasn't alone.
Brianna had been sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV.
She followed her mother inside.
I stared at the screen.
"Brianna was there?""
Raymond nodded.
The recording showed Brianna leaving the house with a large cardboard box.
My heart began to pound.
"What's in that box?""
Raymond paused the footage.
"I don't know. But that night, several original design folders disappeared.""
Elise closed her eyes.
"Danielle's collection archives.""
Raymond nodded.
I felt suddenly cold.
"Why would they take Mom's sketches?""
My father looked at me.
"Because those designs were worth money.""
I turned slowly.
"What?""
He rubbed his face.
"Your mother had unfinished collections. People were still interested in buying the rights. I was trying to keep those opportunities open.""
"By selling her designs without telling me?""
"By supporting the family!""
Elise opened her briefcase.
"Marcus, the intellectual property belonged to the trust. Any licensing agreement required approval from the trustee and beneficiary.""
My father said nothing.
Raymond restarted the footage.
At the very end, a second vehicle appeared.
A dark sedan pulled into the driveway.
A woman stepped out carrying a large envelope.
She entered the house without knocking.
Raymond's face changed.
I leaned toward the screen.
"Who is that?""
He paused the image.
It was someone I recognized immediately.
Our former family attorney.
Patricia Wells.
But she had died the previous year.
I looked at Raymond.
"That's impossible.""
He slowly shook his head.
"No. That's Patricia.""
Elise examined the timestamp.
"She visited your house two days before the fraudulent death certificate was filed.""
Raymond opened another drawer and removed a stack of legal papers.
"There's something I never told Danielle's trustee.""
He placed a property deed on the desk.
The address was familiar.
My childhood home.
I read the ownership information.
The house had been purchased using funds from my mother's trust.
But the registered owner was Vanessa Carter.
I looked at my father.
"You bought this house with Mom's money?""
He whispered, "I was going to put it back.""
Raymond pointed toward a handwritten clause on the second page.
"Your mother anticipated that possibility.""
Elise read it aloud.
"If trust funds are used to acquire property for the benefit of another individual without the beneficiary's approval, ownership shall be subject to immediate review and recovery.""
I looked at the deed.
Then I noticed something else.
A second property address was handwritten on the back.
Raymond's voice dropped.
"Danielle didn't just leave you one home, Nia.""
He turned the paper over.
"She purchased a small design studio in your name before she died.""
My eyes filled.
"Where is it?""
Raymond looked toward my father.
May you like
"Ask him.""
My father had gone completely pale.
