Chapter 6: The Letter From My Dead Wife
I arrived at Daniel's office at 8:15 the following morning.
He was already waiting.
A thick file sat on his desk.
Beside it was a printed copy of the document supposedly written by Angela.
I didn't sit down.
"Show me.""
Daniel slid the paper across the desk.
The heading read:
*AMENDMENT TO FAMILY BENEFICIARY INSTRUCTIONS.*
The date was six months before Angela died.
I recognized her signature at the bottom.
But something was wrong.
I picked up the paper.
"Where did this come from?""
"Richard received it as part of the application to update the trust records.""
"Was it submitted by Denise?""
"Yes.""
I stared at the document.
According to its contents, Angela wanted Malik's future inheritance divided equally among all three children in Marcus Johnson's household.
It also stated that she believed Jordan and Brianna should receive the same financial protection as Malik.
I felt sick.
Angela had barely met Jordan and Brianna.
She had died before Denise and I were married.
How could she have written a letter about children she hadn't even known?
I looked at Daniel.
"Who notarized this?""
He pointed to a stamp.
"Notary information is listed here.""
I leaned closer.
The notary's name was unfamiliar.
"Can we verify it?""
"We're already doing that.""
I turned the document over.
There was a second page.
It contained a paragraph about Angela's final wishes.
I read it slowly.
Then I read it again.
"Daniel, this is not how Angela spoke.""
He frowned.
"What do you mean?""
"She would never call Malik 'the surviving child of my marriage.'' She called him her baby. Even when he was sixteen, she would have called him her baby.""
Daniel nodded.
"That's important.""
I placed the letter down.
"Angela also never wanted Malik's money divided. We discussed that before she died.""
"Do you have anything in writing?""
I opened my briefcase.
Inside were several folders I had collected the previous evening.
I removed an old envelope.
It contained copies of Angela's original estate instructions, along with a handwritten note she had left for me.
Daniel read the first page.
Then he examined the note.
"Marcus, this is useful.""
I pointed toward the handwritten message.
"She wrote that Malik's education money should remain protected until he was old enough to decide what he wanted to do with it.""
Daniel nodded.
"That directly contradicts the document Denise submitted.""
I sat down.
For the first time, I felt a small sense of relief.
Then Daniel opened another folder.
"There's something you need to see.""
He showed me a transaction history from the joint savings account.
The $18,500 transfer had gone into Denise's personal account.
Three days later, $12,000 had been transferred to another account.
The recipient was a business called Hayes Financial Consulting.
I stared at the name.
"Martin Hayes.""
Daniel nodded.
"That's the same individual connected to the suspicious trust application.""
"Can we recover the money?""
"We can investigate the transfer and pursue recovery through the appropriate channels. But first, we need to establish exactly what happened.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"Why would Denise send him twelve thousand dollars?""
"That's what we need to find out.""
My phone vibrated.
It was my mother.
I answered.
"Mom?""
Her voice sounded distressed.
"Marcus, you need to come home.""
"What happened?""
"Denise is here.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did she come inside?""
"She says she has something important to discuss.""
"Don't let her near Malik.""
"He's upstairs. But Marcus, she brought someone with her.""
"Who?""
My mother hesitated.
"She says he's an estate consultant.""
I looked at Daniel.
He immediately understood.
"Martin Hayes," I whispered.
I ended the call and stood.
Daniel grabbed his coat.
"I'm coming with you.""
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into my driveway.
A black luxury sedan was parked outside.
Inside the living room, Denise sat on the sofa beside a gray-haired man wearing an expensive navy suit.
My mother stood near the staircase.
The man rose when we entered.
"Mr. Johnson," he said, extending his hand.
"I'm Martin Hayes.""
I didn't shake it.
"I know who you are.""
His smile faltered.
Denise stood.
"Marcus, finally. I've been trying to resolve this situation.""
I looked at her.
"Why did you bring him into my home?""
"He's here to explain the trust arrangements.""
Daniel stepped forward.
"Mr. Hayes, I'm Daniel Brooks. I'm representing Marcus Johnson.""
Martin glanced at him.
"Of course. I wasn't aware you had legal representation.""
"Now you are.""
The room became tense.
Martin placed a leather folder on the coffee table.
"Perhaps we should all sit down.""
I remained standing.
"Explain the document you submitted under my wife's name.""
He adjusted his cuff.
"I believe there has been a misunderstanding.""
"Was the letter written by Angela Johnson?""
He looked toward Denise.
Then back at me.
"It was provided to me as an authenticated estate document.""
"By whom?""
"I cannot disclose private client information.""
Daniel opened his briefcase.
"Then perhaps you can explain why twelve thousand dollars was transferred to your company from an account belonging to Denise Johnson.""
Martin's expression changed.
For the first time, his confidence disappeared.
Denise quickly interrupted.
"That was a consulting fee.""
Daniel looked at her.
"For what service?""
"Estate planning.""
"Which estate?""
Denise crossed her arms.
"That's none of your business.""
Daniel calmly placed a copy of the transaction record on the table.
"Your payment is directly connected to a disputed trust application involving a minor beneficiary. It is very much our business.""
Martin cleared his throat.
"I think we should postpone this meeting.""
I stepped closer.
"Not before you answer one question.""
He looked at me.
"Did you ever meet Angela?""
"No.""
"Did you ever speak to her?""
"No.""
"Then how did you authenticate her signature?""
He looked toward Denise again.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly.
I saw it.
They were communicating without speaking.
And suddenly, I understood that the letter wasn't something Martin had independently discovered.
Someone had given it to him.
Someone who knew exactly what Angela's handwriting looked like.
Someone who had access to my home.
My files.
My family history.
I turned toward Denise.
"Where did you get the original letter?""
She frowned.
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
"The letter supposedly written by Angela.""
"I told you. It was part of the estate documents.""
"Who gave it to you?""
She looked at Martin.
He remained silent.
Daniel picked up the leather folder.
"Mr. Hayes, I strongly recommend that you preserve every communication and financial record relating to this matter. We will be requesting them formally.""
Martin stood.
"I have nothing further to discuss.""
He reached for his folder.
But before he could leave, my mother spoke.
"Wait.""
Everyone turned.
She was standing beside the staircase, holding a small photograph.
"Marcus, I recognize that handwriting.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
She walked toward the coffee table.
"That letter. The one you said Angela supposedly wrote.""
She placed the photograph beside the document.
It showed Angela sitting in a hospital bed, smiling weakly.
Behind the photograph was a handwritten note.
My mother's hands trembled.
"Angela gave this to me shortly before she died.""
I looked at the note.
The handwriting was unmistakably hers.
My mother pointed toward the disputed document.
"Marcus, the letter Denise submitted is not written in Angela's handwriting.""
I looked up.
"How do you know?""
My mother took a shaky breath.
"Because I helped Angela prepare her final papers. And I remember something very important.""
Denise suddenly stood.
"Evelyn, don't.""
My mother ignored her.
"Angela told me that if anyone ever tried to change Malik's inheritance, I should look for the original document in a specific place.""
My heart began pounding.
"Where?""
My mother looked directly at me.
"Inside the old family Bible she gave you after her funeral.""
I remembered it.
A large brown leather Bible sat in the locked cabinet in my office.
I hadn't opened it in years.
My mother continued.
"Angela said she had written one final letter. She wanted Malik to read it when he turned eighteen.""
I looked at Denise.
Her face had become completely white.
Daniel noticed it too.
"Mrs. Johnson," he said calmly, "why does that information seem to concern you?""
Denise grabbed her handbag.
"I'm leaving.""
I stepped toward the doorway.
"You're not taking anything else from this house.""
She stopped.
Then she turned toward me.
"Marcus, you have no idea what you're about to uncover.""
I stared at her.
"Then tell me.""
Her eyes filled with tears.
For a moment, I thought she might finally confess.
Instead, she whispered:
"Angela knew about me before she died.""
The room went silent.
I felt my chest tighten.
"What did you just say?""
Denise looked toward the floor.
Then she raised her eyes.
"Your first wife knew something about my family. Something she promised she would never tell you.""
I couldn't move.
Daniel slowly closed his briefcase.
My mother began crying.
And upstairs, Malik had come down the staircase.
He stood frozen on the final step.
"Denise," he whispered.
She turned toward him.
Malik's face was pale.
Then he asked a question that made every person in the room stop breathing.
"Is that why you hate me?""
Denise opened her mouth.
But no words came out.
Because Malik had just revealed that he knew something about Angela's final days.
Something he had been too frightened to tell me.
May you like
And when he finally spoke again, the truth threatened to destroy everything I thought I knew about my first wife's death.
"Before Mom died," Malik whispered, "she made me promise never to tell Dad what I saw you doing at the hospital.""
