Chapter 6 - THE SECRET SHE KEPT
I thought the worst was over.
I was wrong.
Three weeks later, Jason called me late at night.
“Riley, are you sitting down?”
“No.”
“Sit.”
I did.
“What happened?”
He sounded nervous.
“I found something in Mom's house.”
“What?”
“A box.”
“What kind of box?”
“Old paperwork.”
My stomach tightened.
“About what?”
“Dad.”
I hadn't heard my father's name spoken seriously in years.
He had died when I was twenty-three.
Heart attack.
At least, that was what we'd always been told.
“What about Dad?”
Jason exhaled.
“There are financial records.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“Riley, Dad left money.”
I laughed once.
“What?”
“A lot of it.”
“How much?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Then why are you calling me?”
“Because your name is on the paperwork.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
Jason sent me a photograph.
It showed an old legal document.
My name.
My father's signature.
And a date from six months before his death.
I stared at the image.
“What is this?”
“I don't know.”
“Where did you find it?”
“In Mom's basement.”
I zoomed in.
The document mentioned a trust.
A life insurance policy.
And something called a family investment account.
My name appeared as a beneficiary.
“So why have I never heard of this?”
Jason didn't answer.
“Jason.”
“I think Mom knew.”
I stared at the wall.
The family suddenly looked different.
Every Christmas.
Every argument.
Every time Mom had said money was tight.
Every time she'd told me I needed to be grateful.
I didn't want to jump to conclusions.
So I called an attorney.
The next morning, I brought the documents to her office.
She reviewed them for nearly an hour.
Then she looked at me.
“Where did you get these?”
“My brother.”
“Did your father sign them?”
“It appears so.”
She nodded.
“This is legitimate.”
My heart started pounding.
“What does it mean?”
“It means your father established a trust for you.”
“How much?”
She paused.
“Approximately four hundred and eighty thousand dollars at the time it was established.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What?”
“That doesn't include growth.”
I stared at her.
“How much would it be now?”
She looked at the documents again.
“Potentially considerably more.”
I left her office in a daze.
I called Jason.
“Did Mom know?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
“I will.”
That evening, Mom called.
She didn't know I'd seen the documents.
At least, I thought she didn't.
“Riley?”
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
“Fine.”
She hesitated.
“Can I ask you something?”
“What?”
“Are you happy?”
The question felt strange.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“I don't know how to be your mother anymore.”
I didn't answer.
Then she said:
“Your father would have wanted us to stay close.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why are you bringing Dad up?”
Silence.
Then:
“No reason.”
I hung up.
Five minutes later, Jason called.
“I asked her.”
“And?”
“She knew.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“How long?”
“Since before Dad died.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did she know about the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No.”
“Did she tell me?”
“No.”
Silence.
Then Jason said:
“There's more.”
“What?”
“Dad's original will is missing.”
I looked toward the window.
Outside, the snow had started falling.
For years, I had thought my family's biggest problem was that they didn't respect my time.
Now I was beginning to wonder if Christmas had only been the first door I'd opened.
May you like
There were other locked rooms.
And someone had spent years making sure I never found the keys.
