Chapter 8: The Red Book and the Missing Inheritance
I returned home the following morning.
Brianna was waiting outside the house.
She looked exhausted.
Her hair was tied into a messy ponytail, and she wore the same sweatshirt she had slept in.
When she saw me, she stood.
“Thanks for coming.””
“Where's Dad?””
“Inside.””
I followed her into the kitchen.
Dad sat at the table with a stack of papers in front of him.
His eyes were bloodshot.
“Nia.””
I placed my bag on the floor.
“Where's the red book?””
He looked at Brianna.
She shook her head.
“Tell her,” Brianna said.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“The red book contains the original trust documents.””
I sat down.
“Mom left a trust in my name?””
He nodded.
“Your mother established it before she died. It included ownership rights to several original designs, a small investment account, and the remaining assets from her business.””
“How much?””
“I don't know exactly.””
“Dad.””
He looked down.
“Your mother told me it was enough to support your education and give you a start in the fashion industry.””
I felt sick.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“I thought Vanessa had destroyed the documents.””
“But you knew they existed.””
“Yes.””
“And you never looked for them?””
He closed his eyes.
“I did. Years ago. I couldn't find them.””
I stared at him.
“Did you tell Vanessa?””
He nodded slowly.
My hands tightened.
“Why?””
“Because I thought she could help organize your mother's belongings.””
I stood up.
“You gave her access to the one thing Mom specifically asked you to protect?””
Dad didn't defend himself.
“I made a terrible mistake.””
Brianna stepped forward.
“Mom knew about the trust. She found out where Dad kept the book.””
I turned toward her.
“How?””
“She searched his office.””
Dad looked up.
“She said she was looking for insurance papers.””
I shook my head.
“Of course she did.””
Brianna wiped her eyes.
“There's something else.””
She opened her phone and showed me a photograph.
It was a message from Vanessa.
If anyone asks, the red book contains nothing important. Do not tell your father where I went.
Another message followed.
I am going to make sure Lily Carter's daughter never gets what she thinks she deserves.
I stared at the screen.
“Did you know she was planning this?””
“No,” Brianna whispered.
“I found the messages after she left.””
Dad stood.
“We need to contact a lawyer.””
“I already have someone,” I said.
I called Evelyn.
Within an hour, she arranged a meeting with her attorney, Patricia Lewis, who specialized in estate and intellectual property disputes.
Patricia reviewed the documents my mother had left behind.
She studied the photograph, the letters, and the old business records.
Then she looked at Dad.
“Mr. Carter, did you ever sign a document transferring control of the trust?””
“No.””
“Did your wife have authorization to access the assets?””
“No.””
“Did she have a copy of the trust agreement?””
“I don't know.””
Patricia wrote something down.
“Then we need to move quickly. If Mrs. Carter has taken the original trust book, she may attempt to transfer or conceal assets.””
I swallowed.
“Can she?””
“Not legally without proper authority. But we should notify the financial institution and preserve the records.””
Dad nodded.
“Do whatever is necessary.””
Patricia looked at me.
“Nia, your mother's letter mentions that the trust was established for your benefit. We need to verify its terms before making assumptions.””
“Can you find it?””
“I can try.””
That afternoon, we visited the bank listed in an old statement.
The manager examined my mother's name and disappeared into his office.
When he returned, he carried a thick file.
“Mrs. Carter established a family trust in 2008,” he explained.
“The account remains active.””
My heart pounded.
“What's in it?””
He glanced at the manager beside him.
“I'm afraid I can't disclose the details until we verify your identity and legal status as beneficiary.””
Patricia handed over the necessary documents.
After several minutes, the manager returned.
“The trust contains investment holdings, a property interest, and licensing income from registered designs.””
I stared at him.
“How much?””
He turned the screen toward Patricia.
She read the figures.
Her eyebrows rose.
Then she looked at me.
“Nia, your mother was very careful.””
The total value was considerably more than I had imagined.
Not a fortune that would make me wealthy overnight.
But enough to pay for my education, establish a studio, and give me financial independence.
I covered my mouth.
My mother had been preparing for my future even when I was too young to understand what she was doing.
Then Patricia noticed something.
“There are recent inquiries on this account.””
The manager nodded.
“Three requests were submitted by someone claiming to represent the beneficiary.””
“Who?”” I asked.
He checked the file.
“Vanessa Carter.””
Patricia immediately requested copies.
The manager printed the forms.
They contained a forged authorization and a request to redirect licensing payments.
The signature looked like mine.
Again.
My stomach twisted.
“She did this before,” I whispered.
Patricia studied the signature.
“We'll have it examined. For now, the bank has placed a temporary restriction on changes to the account.””
I felt relief.
But it didn't last.
As we left the bank, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Nia Carter?””
“Yes.””
“This is Vanessa.””
My body went rigid.
“Where are you?””
“That's not important.””
“What did you do with the red book?””
She laughed softly.
“You really are your mother's daughter.””
“Give it back.””
“You think money makes you powerful?””
“No. But stealing it makes you a criminal.””
Her voice sharpened.
“Be careful.””
“I have the bank records. I know what you tried to do.””
A pause.
Then she said, “You have no idea what that trust was supposed to be.””
“It was supposed to protect me.””
“Your mother used it to keep everyone dependent on her.””
I closed my eyes.
“Stop lying.””
“Ask Evelyn what happened to the original studio.””
“I already know.””
“No, you don't.””
Her voice dropped.
“Your mother wasn't an innocent victim. She made decisions that hurt people.””
I felt anger rise.
“What did she do?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
Instead, she said, “Meet me tomorrow at the old Silver Moon studio. Come alone.””
“No.””
“If you want the red book, come alone.””
The call ended.
I immediately showed Patricia.
She shook her head.
“Absolutely not.””
“I need that book.””
“We can recover it through legal channels.””
“What if she destroys it?””
Patricia considered this.
“Then we document everything and seek an emergency order.””
Evelyn looked at me.
“There's another reason Vanessa wants you there.””
“What?””
“She knows the old studio holds something more valuable than the trust book.””
I frowned.
“What?””
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“The original collection.””
The following evening, we arrived at the abandoned building.
Patricia had arranged for a security officer to accompany us.
Evelyn walked beside me.
The old sign above the entrance was faded.
SILVER MOON DESIGN STUDIO.
I touched the letters.
This was where my mother had once dreamed of building her future.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and damp wood.
A single light was on in the back room.
Vanessa stood beside a metal cabinet.
The red book was on the table.
She looked at me.
“You came.””
I glanced at the book.
“Give it to me.””
Vanessa smiled.
“Not until you hear what your mother really did.””
Then she opened the cabinet.
Inside were dozens of original sketches.
And on top of them was a photograph of my mother holding a newborn baby.
May you like
Not me.
Another child.
