Chapter 4: The Buyer Who Was Already Waiting
For several seconds, I couldn't hear anything except the pounding of my own heart.
The buyer was already waiting at my mother's house.
That sentence changed everything.
I looked at Marcus.
"Who is the buyer?""
He shook his head.
"I don't know his full name.""
"How can you not know?""
"Mom handled everything.""
I turned toward my mother.
"Who did you sell the property to?""
Evelyn Carter straightened her emerald gown.
"Nobody has sold anything yet. We're simply finalizing an agreement.""
"Without my signature?""
"Your signature is the only thing missing.""
I stared at her.
"Then the property hasn't been sold.""
Her expression hardened.
"Don't play games with me.""
"I'm not playing games. I'm telling you that I haven't agreed to sell anything.""
Claire stepped forward.
"Nia, you're being unbelievably selfish.""
I turned toward her.
"Do you even know what this property is worth?""
She shrugged.
"Mom said it was worth a lot.""
"How much?""
Claire glanced at our mother.
"Enough to help everybody.""
I almost laughed.
There it was.
Everybody.
A word my family used whenever they wanted something from me.
I looked at Marcus.
"Did you know about the buyer?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"I knew someone was interested.""
"How long?""
"A few weeks.""
"And you didn't think to tell me?""
"Mom said you would refuse.""
I stared at him.
"She already knew I would refuse because she never asked.""
My mother slammed her handbag onto the nearby table.
"That's enough!""
Several guests turned toward us again.
She lowered her voice, but her anger remained obvious.
"Your father left that property for this family. Not for you to hold hostage.""
I looked down at the photocopy.
"Then why does the trust require all three beneficiaries to agree?""
"Because your father made a mistake.""
The words came out so casually that I almost didn't recognize them.
"My father made a mistake?""
"Yes. He trusted you too much.""
Patricia stepped forward.
"Evelyn, that's enough. Your husband wanted those children protected.""
My mother turned toward her sister.
"Please don't pretend you knew what was best for this family.""
"I knew your husband. He didn't want his children fighting over money.""
My mother gave a bitter laugh.
"Well, look where his decisions got us.""
I looked at her.
"Where did his decisions get you, Mom?""
She didn't answer.
Instead, she picked up the envelope and slipped it back into her handbag.
"You're coming home tomorrow morning. The buyer will be there at ten. You will listen to the proposal, and then we will settle this.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
Her eyes narrowed.
"What did you say?""
"I said no.""
"You don't understand how serious this is.""
"Then explain it.""
She leaned closer.
"Your brother has obligations. Your sister has a business to save. I have spent years keeping this family together. You have the money to help us, and you will help us.""
I looked at Claire.
"How much does your business owe?""
She folded her arms.
"That's none of your business.""
"Then why is my father's property being sold to solve your financial problems?""
"Because you're part of this family!""
I looked at her for a long moment.
Then I turned to Marcus.
"How much do you owe?""
He stared at the floor.
"Forty-two thousand.""
I blinked.
"What?""
He swallowed.
"Between the car, credit cards, and a personal loan.""
"And you?""
I looked at Claire.
She said nothing.
"Claire?""
"Twenty-eight thousand," she finally muttered.
I slowly exhaled.
Seventy thousand dollars.
That was what my mother had been hiding behind the word family.
I turned toward her.
"Are you trying to sell Dad's property to pay off their debts?""
Her jaw tightened.
"I'm trying to give my children a fresh start.""
"With my father's inheritance?""
"With the family's inheritance.""
"Then why did you forge my signature?""
Her expression changed.
For the first time, she didn't immediately have an answer.
The event director approached us cautiously.
"Ms. Carter, I'm sorry, but we need to resolve the outstanding charges before the event can continue.""
My mother spun toward him.
"This is a private family conversation!""
"Of course, Mrs. Carter. However, the additional services remain unpaid.""
She looked at me.
"Just pay the bill, Nia.""
I shook my head.
"I've already told you I'm not paying for unauthorized charges.""
"You are destroying my birthday!""
I looked around the ballroom.
At the guests.
The flowers.
The beautiful cake.
Then back at her.
"No, Mom. I'm refusing to destroy my finances to protect your reputation.""
I walked away.
This time, nobody tried to stop me.
Outside, I called my attorney, Daniel Brooks.
He had handled my company's contracts for four years and was one of the few people I trusted to tell me the truth without softening it.
He answered on the second ring.
"Nia?""
"Daniel, I need help.""
His tone immediately changed.
"What's happened?""
I explained everything.
The restaurant charges.
The questionable authorization.
The personal guarantee.
The property trust.
And the buyer waiting at my mother's house.
He remained silent until I finished.
Then he asked one question.
"Have you signed anything recently?""
"No.""
"Have you given anyone permission to sign on your behalf?""
"Absolutely not.""
"Good. Don't sign anything. Don't authorize anything. And don't agree to any property transaction until we've reviewed the original trust documents.""
I looked toward the ballroom windows.
"Can my mother sell the property without my consent?""
"If the trust requires unanimous beneficiary approval, she cannot simply bypass that condition. But I need to see the actual trust instrument before giving you a definitive answer.""
"What if she's already signed an agreement?""
"That depends on what she signed and what authority she claims to have.""
I closed my eyes.
"Daniel, I think she may have forged my signature.""
His voice became firm.
"Then preserve everything. Messages, photographs, emails, documents. Don't delete anything.""
"I have a photograph of the personal guarantee.""
"Send it to me.""
I forwarded the image.
A few seconds later, my phone rang again.
Daniel.
"There's something concerning here.""
"What?""
"The document appears to identify your consulting company as a guarantor for obligations connected to a property transaction. I can't verify its validity from a photograph, but I don't like what I'm seeing.""
My stomach tightened.
"What should I do?""
"First, secure your business accounts. Change your email password, enable two-factor authentication, and contact your bank about any attempted authorization.""
I nodded.
"Okay.""
"Second, I want you to find your father's original trust.""
"What if my mother refuses to give it to me?""
"Then we request it through the appropriate legal channels.""
He paused.
"And Nia?""
"Yes?""
"Don't go to that house alone tomorrow.""
I looked at the time.
9:13 p.m.
"Why?""
"Because if someone has already prepared documents using your identity, you don't know what else they have arranged.""
His words stayed with me long after the call ended.
I got into my car.
Before starting the engine, I opened the photograph Marcus had sent.
I zoomed in on the document again.
There was a small reference number printed in the bottom-right corner.
A number I hadn't noticed before.
I sent it to Daniel.
Then I called the restaurant coordinator and asked for a copy of the disputed authorization.
She promised to email it.
At 9:37 p.m., I received the document.
I opened it.
The signature was still there.
But beneath it, in tiny print, was a section identifying the submitting party.
I read it twice.
*Submitted by: Evelyn Carter.*
I stared at the screen.
My mother had submitted the document.
Not Marcus.
Not Claire.
Her.
Then I noticed another line.
*Supporting identification: Nia Carter — Business Registration Record.*
My stomach dropped.
I hadn't given my mother any business registration documents.
I hadn't even discussed my company's legal structure with her.
Someone had accessed information that should never have been used to authorize a personal guarantee.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Daniel appeared.
I checked the reference number. It appears to be associated with another document. We need to investigate this immediately.
Then he sent a second message.
There may be an existing application involving your company and the property trust.
I sat motionless.
An existing application?
Before I could respond, another message arrived.
It was from an unknown number.
Ms. Carter, this is Robert Hayes. I'm the prospective buyer of your father's property. Your mother assured me you were fully aware of the transaction.
I stared at the message.
Then another arrived.
Unfortunately, I have already transferred $75,000 in good-faith funds.
My fingers went cold.
Seventy-five thousand dollars.
I typed carefully.
I have not approved any sale of the property.
His reply came almost immediately.
Then I believe you need to speak to your mother. She gave me a signed document stating otherwise.
I looked at the restaurant.
At the building where my mother had humiliated me.
At the family who had spent years teaching me that I should never question them.
May you like
And suddenly, I understood that the birthday dinner had never been the biggest problem.
It had simply been the first place their secret began falling apart.
