Chapter 6: The Attorney Who Came Looking for My Mother's Documents
The footsteps stopped outside my mother's bedroom.
I slipped the original trust documents into the inside pocket of my jacket.
My mother grabbed my wrist.
"Marcus, listen to me. Whatever happens, don't let them convince you that I'm confused or incapable of making my own decisions.""
I looked at her.
"Nobody is taking anything from you.""
She nodded, but her hands were trembling.
Three sharp knocks sounded against the door.
"Marcus," Nia called.
"Open the door.""
I stepped into the hallway.
Nia stood beside a tall man in a charcoal suit. He carried a leather briefcase and wore an expensive watch.
I recognized him from the photograph Diane had shown me earlier.
Michael Reynolds.
He smiled as if we were meeting for lunch.
"Marcus. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.""
I didn't move.
"What are you doing in my house?""
He extended his hand.
"I'm here to help resolve a family disagreement.""
I ignored his hand.
"Nobody invited you.""
Nia stepped forward.
"Marcus, please. Michael is here to explain everything.""
"Then he can explain it from the front porch.""
Michael withdrew his hand.
"Your wife contacted me because she's concerned about your mother's financial situation.""
I laughed.
"That's interesting. Because I thought she contacted you to help her forge my signature.""
His smile disappeared.
"Those are serious accusations.""
"Then you should have thought about that before submitting false documents.""
Michael opened his briefcase.
"I understand there's been some confusion regarding the property filing.""
I stepped closer.
"There's no confusion. I never signed that document.""
He placed a folder on the hallway table.
"Your wife believed she had your permission to prepare certain paperwork.""
"Did she have my permission to sign my name?""
He looked at Nia.
She lowered her eyes.
Michael cleared his throat.
"Perhaps we should discuss this privately.""
"No.""
I pointed toward the staircase.
"My mother is upstairs. If you have something to say, say it in front of her.""
Michael hesitated.
Then he walked toward the bedroom.
I stepped in front of him.
"Not so fast.""
His expression hardened.
"Marcus, I'm an attorney.""
"And I'm the homeowner.""
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then my mother appeared behind me.
"Let him speak, sweetheart.""
I turned.
"Mom, you don't have to—"
"It's all right.""
She stepped into the hallway.
Michael immediately changed his expression.
"Mrs. Evans. It's good to see you.""
Mom looked at him without smiling.
"Unfortunately, I can't say the same.""
He placed his briefcase on the table.
"I believe there's been a misunderstanding concerning certain family assets.""
Mom folded her arms.
"Which assets?""
"The Whitmore-Evans trust.""
Her expression didn't change.
But I noticed her fingers tighten around the edge of her cardigan.
Michael continued.
"Your late husband entered into several agreements with Robert Whitmore. There are outstanding questions regarding the distribution of those assets.""
Mom shook her head.
"There are no outstanding questions.""
Michael smiled politely.
"With respect, Mrs. Evans, you're not familiar with all the legal developments.""
"I was there when the original agreement was signed.""
He opened his briefcase and removed a document.
"Then perhaps you can explain this.""
He placed it in front of her.
It was a photocopy of an agreement dated twenty-nine years earlier.
Mom glanced at it.
Then she looked at Michael.
"Where did you get this?""
"From Diane Whitmore.""
Mom's face went pale.
I looked at the document.
There were two signatures at the bottom.
My father's.
And another belonging to Robert Whitmore.
The agreement stated that control of certain family assets would pass to Robert's descendants if the Evans family failed to meet specific financial obligations.
I looked at Mom.
"Is this real?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
Michael frowned.
"Mrs. Evans, your husband's signature is clearly visible.""
"My husband's signature may be visible, but the agreement is not genuine.""
He closed the folder.
"That's a serious allegation.""
Mom stepped closer.
"Your document is missing three pages.""
Michael stopped moving.
She continued.
"The original agreement contained a clause stating that neither family could transfer ownership without the approval of both trustees.""
Michael glanced toward Nia.
I noticed it.
And so did my mother.
"Where did you get this copy?"" she asked again.
Michael didn't answer.
Mom nodded slowly.
"I see.""
She walked into her bedroom and returned with the original document.
It was inside a protective plastic sleeve.
She placed it beside Michael's copy.
"Look at the date.""
He leaned forward.
The original agreement had been signed two days after the date printed on his photocopy.
And there was another difference.
The original contained a handwritten amendment.
It stated that if either party attempted to transfer the assets without authorization, the other family would receive full control of the disputed properties.
Michael's face changed.
"Where did you obtain this?""
"My husband.""
"Who currently holds the original trust records?""
"I do.""
He looked at the document for several seconds.
Then he reached for it.
Mom pulled it back.
"You can look. You cannot take it.""
Michael straightened his jacket.
"Mrs. Evans, I strongly recommend that you cooperate. This matter could become very expensive.""
Mom's voice was quiet.
"Your father said the same thing.""
Michael froze.
I stared at him.
"Your father?""
Mom nodded.
"Michael's father represented Robert Whitmore for many years.""
Michael's expression became unreadable.
"That's irrelevant.""
"Is it?"" Mom asked.
She walked back to the wooden box and removed another envelope.
"Your father was involved in the original dispute. He knew exactly what Robert's family had done.""
Michael's jaw tightened.
Mom opened the envelope.
Inside was a letter bearing the signature of Michael's late father.
She handed it to me.
I read the first paragraph.
I have advised my client to disclose the unauthorized transfers immediately. Continuing to conceal the missing funds will expose every person involved to criminal liability.
I looked up.
"Your father knew?""
Michael reached for the letter.
I moved it away.
"Don't.""
He turned toward Nia.
"We're leaving.""
Nia looked confused.
"Michael, wait. What about the documents?""
He snapped his briefcase shut.
"This discussion is over.""
I followed them downstairs.
At the front door, Michael turned.
"Marcus, I would be careful. You don't understand the people you're dealing with.""
I stared at him.
"Neither do you.""
He walked out.
Nia remained in the doorway.
"Marcus, please.""
I looked at her.
"Did you know your mother was trying to access my mother's trust?""
She shook her head.
"I swear I didn't know about the three million dollars.""
"That's not what I asked.""
She began crying.
"I knew Mom wanted the documents.""
"Why?""
"She said there was money she was entitled to.""
I stared at her.
"And you helped her?""
Nia covered her mouth.
"She told me she was supposed to inherit it.""
"Did you believe her?""
Nia didn't answer.
I stepped aside.
"Go upstairs and pack your things.""
She looked at me in disbelief.
"You're throwing me out?""
"I'm asking you to leave while Daniel investigates the forged documents.""
She shook her head.
"Marcus, I'm your wife.""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"That used to mean something to me.""
Her face crumpled.
She walked upstairs.
I returned to my mother's bedroom.
She was sitting on the bed, staring at the old photograph of my father and Robert Whitmore.
I sat beside her.
"Mom, why didn't you tell me any of this before?""
She looked at me.
"Because your father made me promise that you would have a normal childhood.""
I took her hand.
"But I'm not a child anymore.""
"I know.""
She opened the wooden box again.
Then she removed a small silver key.
"There's one more thing your father left behind.""
"What?""
"A safety deposit box.""
"Where?""
"At the old bank downtown.""
She pressed the key into my palm.
"Your father said the truth about Diane was inside.""
I looked at the key.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
"Marcus, where are you?""
"At home.""
"Listen carefully. I just received confirmation that Diane's attorney has submitted a request for an emergency hearing.""
"On what grounds?""
"He's claiming your mother is mentally incapable of managing the trust and that the assets should be placed under temporary administration.""
I felt my blood turn cold.
"Can they do that?""
"Not without evidence. But Marcus, there's something else.""
"What?""
"Someone has already filed a medical report claiming Evelyn is suffering from cognitive decline.""
I looked at my mother.
She was standing beside the window.
Completely unaware that someone had just tried to take away her right to control her own life.
I lowered my voice.
"Who signed the medical report?""
Daniel hesitated.
Then he answered.
"Dr. Samuel Carter.""
My mother dropped the photograph.
May you like
Because she knew that name.
And the expression on her face told me this was far worse than I had imagined.
