Chapter 4: The Signature That Wasn't Hers
Tasha stared at the forged signature until the phone began slipping from her fingers.
“I wasn't even home that day,” she whispered.
I took the phone before it hit the concrete.
“Show me the date again.””
She pointed to the authorization document.
Six weeks before my birthday. A Tuesday.
Tasha pulled up her work schedule, then opened the employee portal for the grocery store where she'd worked since she was sixteen. Her hands trembled as she scrolled through the archived shifts.
“There,” she said.
The screen showed her name beside a shift that began at 7:00 a.m. and ended at 5:30 p.m.
She had worked ten and a half hours that day.
The authorization document claimed she had signed it at 2:15 p.m.
At home.
In front of a witness.
“I was unloading pallets in the stockroom,” Tasha said.
“My manager made me stay late because two people called out sick.””
“Can you prove it?””
She looked at me as if the question hurt.
“I have my timecard. I have the schedule. I probably have the text messages asking me to cover the shift.””
“Then save everything.””
I took screenshots of the document and sent copies to Tasha's email. She downloaded the work schedule and began searching for the text messages.
We were still sitting beside the garage when the front door opened again.
Marcus stepped onto the porch.
He had changed into a dark polo shirt. His expression was calm now, almost pleasant, which somehow frightened me more than his earlier anger.
“Girls,” he called.
“Let's come inside and talk like a family.””
Tasha locked her phone.
“Did you sign that document?””
Marcus stopped.
“What document?””
“The trust authorization. The one claiming I agreed to let you use my money.””
He glanced at me.
Then at Tasha's phone.
His expression hardened.
“Where did you get that?””
“From the bank.””
“You weren't supposed to have access to those records.””
Tasha stood.
“It's my trust.””
“Not while you're behaving like this.””
I stepped between them.
“That's not an answer.””
Marcus's gaze settled on me.
“You've caused enough trouble today, Maya. Don't make this worse for your sister.””
“My sister is asking whether you signed a document claiming she gave you permission to spend her money.””
“I signed a witness statement.””
Tasha's face drained of color.
“So you admit it?””
“I admit I signed paperwork connected to your trust. I did not forge anything.””
“Then why wasn't I there?””
“You were represented.””
“By whom?””
Marcus looked toward the house.
My mother appeared in the doorway, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
Neither adult answered.
Tasha took a step toward him.
“Who represented me?””
Marcus exhaled sharply.
“This is exactly why you should have stayed out of financial matters until you were mature enough to understand them.””
“I understand that fifty thousand dollars disappeared from my account!””
“It wasn't all your money anymore.””
The words came out before he could stop them.
Silence settled over the driveway.
Tasha blinked.
“What does that mean?””
Marcus rubbed his jaw.
“I mean the trust had obligations. Your mother left arrangements that required ongoing expenses. I managed those expenses.””
“Which obligations?””
“You wouldn't understand the entire picture.””
“Then explain one part of it.””
He turned away.
Tasha followed him with her eyes.
“You said the money was being managed. You said it was safe. You told me to work for my college deposit because I needed to learn responsibility.””
Marcus spun around.
“And you did learn responsibility! You got a job. You learned to save. Those are good things.””
Tasha looked at him in disbelief.
“You stole my savings so I could learn to save?””
“I did not steal anything.””
“Then show me where the money went.””
He pointed toward the house.
“Inside. Now.””
“No.””
It was the second time that day Tasha had refused him.
This time, she didn't flinch afterward.
Marcus stared at his daughter as though she had become a stranger.
“You're making accusations that could destroy this family.””
Tasha's voice shook, but she held her ground.
“Maybe you should have thought about that before signing my name.””
He stepped toward her.
I raised my phone.
“I'm recording this conversation.””
Marcus stopped immediately.
“You wouldn't dare.””
“I would.””
He looked at the phone, then at the neighboring houses.
For a moment, I thought he might grab it.
Instead, he straightened his shirt and lowered his voice.
“Fine. You want documents? I'll give you documents. But when you see the full picture, you'll understand why these decisions had to be made.””
Tasha stared at him.
“When?””
“Tomorrow.””
“No. Today.””
“Tomorrow, Tasha.””
He turned and went inside.
My mother remained in the doorway.
She looked at me with a mixture of anger and disappointment.
“Put that phone away.””
“Why?””
“Because recording your own family is disgusting.””
“So is forging someone's signature.””
Her face went rigid.
“You have no proof that anyone forged anything.””
Tasha held up her phone.
“We have the document. We have my work schedule. And we have the bank reviewing the account.””
Nia's eyes flickered toward Marcus inside the house.
Then she disappeared through the doorway.
The door closed behind her.
For several minutes, Tasha and I sat without speaking.
Then she whispered, “What if they destroy the rest of the paperwork?””
I looked at the house.
“Then we make sure the bank has everything we found.””
We went to the kitchen table and used Tasha's phone to submit the formal request Daniel had explained. She attached the suspicious authorization, the account statement, and her work schedule.
We asked the bank to preserve the relevant transaction records and review the authority under which the dealership payment had been processed.
When she pressed submit, she let out a shaky breath.
“That's it?””
“For now.””
She stared at the confirmation number.
“I thought being nineteen meant I could finally make my own decisions.””
“You can.””
“Then why does it feel like everybody else still owns my life?””
I didn't have an answer.
I sat beside her and rested my head against her shoulder.
We stayed there until the kitchen clock reached six.
At 6:17 p.m., Marcus came downstairs carrying a thick brown folder.
He placed it on the table.
“Here,” he said.
“Everything you need to understand the situation.””
Tasha reached for it.
Marcus kept one hand on the cover.
“Before you look through these, I want you to understand something. Families survive because people trust one another. Sometimes adults have to make difficult decisions.””
Tasha looked at his hand.
“Move it.””
He slowly released the folder.
Inside were bank statements, invoices, and copies of legal documents.
Tasha began sorting them into piles.
Some pages were straightforward. Others contained unfamiliar legal language. I opened my laptop and searched for the meaning of the terms while she checked dates and amounts.
Then Tasha found a statement from a financial institution she had never heard of.
The account had received a transfer of $18,000 from her trust fourteen months earlier.
Beneath the transfer was the name of the recipient.
Marcus Johnson.
Not a household account.
Not a college account.
His personal investment account.
Tasha's breathing changed.
“Why would my money go into his investment account?””
Marcus pulled out a chair.
“Because I was investing it for you.””
“Then why did you tell me there wasn't enough money for college?””
“The investment wasn't liquid at the time.””
“Wasn't liquid?””
He leaned forward.
“Money can be tied up in assets. You can't simply withdraw everything whenever you want.””
Tasha placed the statement on the table.
“You had eighteen thousand dollars of mine in your investment account, and you told me to work extra shifts for eight hundred dollars.””
Marcus's voice sharpened.
“I was trying to grow the money.””
“Then where is it now?””
He didn't answer immediately.
That hesitation told us more than his explanations had.
Tasha flipped to the next statement.
A withdrawal of $12,000.
Then another transfer.
Then a payment to a credit card company.
She looked up.
“Whose credit card was that?””
Marcus reached across the table and closed the folder.
“That's enough for tonight.””
Tasha held on to the opposite edge.
“No.””
His fingers tightened around the cover.
“I have explained myself.””
“You haven't explained anything.””
He yanked the folder toward him.
Several pages slid onto the floor.
Tasha stood so quickly that her chair scraped backward.
“Give me those records!””
Marcus froze.
For a second, neither moved.
Then he gathered the pages, placed them back inside the folder, and pushed it across the table.
“Take them,” he said coldly.
“Since you apparently believe I'm your enemy.””
Tasha's eyes filled with tears.
“I don't want you to be my enemy.””
His expression flickered.
“I want you to be my father.””
Marcus looked away.
The silence that followed was almost unbearable.
Then he leaned toward her and spoke quietly enough that I nearly missed the words.
“If you continue with that bank investigation, you may discover things about your mother that you cannot take back.””
Tasha went completely still.
“What things?””
Marcus stood.
“You'll find out soon enough.””
He walked toward the stairs.
At the bottom step, he stopped and looked back at us.
“And Maya? That car was purchased legally. Whether you accept it or not, the dealership has been paid.””
Then he went upstairs.
Tasha sat down slowly.
I reached for her hand.
“What do you think he meant?””
She looked at the folder.
“I think he's trying to scare us.””
“Is it working?””
She shook her head, although her eyes betrayed her.
“No.””
Then she turned to the last document we'd pulled from the pile.
It was a photocopy of a letter from Evelyn Carter, dated two months before her death.
The first paragraph was addressed to Tasha.
The second contained a sentence that made my skin crawl.
If anything happens to me, please remember that the money I leave you is not for anyone else's benefit, no matter how much they claim to love you.
Tasha read it twice.
Then she pressed the letter to her chest.
May you like
Her mother had known something.
And whatever it was, Marcus was terrified that we might discover it.
