Chapter 6: The Secret Hidden In The Deed
I stared at the envelope on the table.
For the first time since I came home, Wendy looked like she had control again.
That bothered me.
Because guilty people usually panic.
They apologize.
They beg.
They try to explain.
Wendy didn’t.
She looked confident.
Like she had been waiting for this moment.
Like she knew something I didn’t.
I reached for the envelope.
My mother suddenly spoke.
“Luca.””
I looked at her.
Her face was pale.
“What?””
She shook her head slowly.
“Don’t open it here.””
The room went quiet.
Everyone looked at her.
Even Wendy.
Especially Wendy.
Because that reaction told me one thing.
My mother knew what was inside.
I turned toward her.
“Mom, what is this?””
She looked down.
“I wanted to tell you.””
“When?””
She swallowed.
“I tried.””
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I was afraid you would blame yourself.””
I stepped closer.
“Mom, I need the truth.””
She looked at the envelope.
Then at Wendy.
“I made a mistake.””
Wendy crossed her arms.
A small smile appeared.
“There it is.””
My eyes moved to her.
“What?””
“Your mother knows.””
“Knows what?””
“That she lied to you.””
My mother flinched.
I felt my anger rise.
“Stop.””
Wendy looked at me.
“I’m just saying.””
“No.””
My voice was firm.
“You don’t get to pretend you care about honesty now.””
Attorney Miller picked up the envelope.
“Before anyone opens this, we need to understand what we’re dealing with.””
He examined the front.
No name.
No address.
Nothing.
“Where did you get this?””
Wendy answered immediately.
“Your mother signed it.””
My mother closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“Mom?””
She whispered:
“Yes.””
The word hurt.
Not because she signed something.
Because she had been alone when she did.
“Why?””
She looked ashamed.
“Because Wendy told me it was the only way to keep my home.””
My blood ran cold.
“She threatened you?””
My mother didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
Wendy rolled her eyes.
“Threatened?””
She laughed.
“Your mother is dramatic.””
I looked at her.
“You keep using that word.””
“What?””
“Dramatic.””
I stepped closer.
“Every time someone questions you, you call them dramatic.””
Wendy’s expression hardened.
“Because they are.””
Attorney Miller opened the envelope.
Inside was a stack of papers.
He read silently.
Then his face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“What?””
I asked.
He looked at me.
“This is a property transfer agreement.””
My stomach tightened.
“How?””
He continued reading.
“It states that Elena Bennett voluntarily transfers ownership rights of the property.””
My mother looked down.
“But she didn’t understand what she was signing.””
Attorney Miller looked at the signature page.
“That may be important.””
“Why?””
“Because there is a problem.””
He turned the document around.
The signature was my mother’s.
But beneath it was something else.
A witness signature.
I looked closer.
My heart stopped.
“Ethan.””
My brother’s name was there.
Nobody spoke.
Then Ethan suddenly stepped back.
“Wait.””
I looked at him.
“You witnessed this?””
“I…”
He looked at Wendy.
Then back at me.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.””
My laugh was empty.
“Nothing is ever supposed to be like this with you people.””
Ethan shook his head.
“You don’t understand.””
“I’m tired of hearing that.””
I pointed at the paper.
“You helped take my mother’s house.””
“No.””
“Your signature is right there.””
He looked desperate.
“I thought it was temporary.””
“Temporary?””
“Yes.””
He stepped forward.
“Wendy told me she just wanted control while Mom’s health declined.””
My eyes narrowed.
“And you believed her?””
Ethan looked away.
That was his answer.
Attorney Miller continued reading.
Then stopped.
“There’s another issue.””
“What?””
He pointed to a section near the bottom.
“This agreement was signed three days before the fall.””
The room went silent.
Three days.
My mother’s injury happened three days later.
The timeline was no longer a coincidence.
Wendy had been trying to get control.
My mother refused.
Then my mother got hurt.
I looked at Wendy.
“You planned this.””
Her face remained calm.
“No.””
“You pressured her.””
“No.””
“You locked her away.””
“No.””
“You hurt her.””
Wendy’s expression changed.
“I made a mistake.””
The room froze.
Even she realized what she said.
Attorney Miller slowly looked up.
“A mistake?””
Wendy recovered.
“I mean the situation became difficult.””
I stared at her.
“You almost admitted it.””
She looked angry.
“You want me to be the monster.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“I want you to stop pretending.””
Later that afternoon, Attorney Miller helped us understand the document.
The transfer was suspicious.
The wording was unusual.
Several sections appeared designed to remove my mother’s rights while making it look voluntary.
But there was one problem.
A signature alone did not tell the whole story.
My mother’s mental state.
The circumstances.
The pressure.
Everything mattered.
And we needed more evidence.
“We need to find out who prepared this,” Attorney Miller said.
I looked at the document.
“Wendy?””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Then who?””
He pointed to a small line near the bottom.
A law office name.
I recognized it.
My heart sank.
Because it belonged to someone I trusted.
Someone I had known for years.
“Who is it?””
Attorney Miller looked at me.
“Your father’s old attorney.””
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.””
“Why?””
“Because he retired.””
Attorney Miller turned the paper toward himself.
“Apparently not.””
I stared at the name.
A name from my childhood.
A man who had attended my father’s funeral.
A man who had promised my mother he would protect her interests.
“How involved is he?””
Attorney Miller flipped through the pages.
“That’s what we need to find out.””
That evening, I sat beside my mother in the hotel room.
She looked exhausted.
“I’m sorry.””
I immediately shook my head.
“No.””
“I should have told you.””
“No.””
I held her hand.
“You survived something horrible.””
She looked at me.
“I was scared.””
“I know.””
“I thought if I caused trouble, you would lose Wendy.””
I looked down.
“Mom…”
She squeezed my hand.
“There’s something else.””
My heart sank.
“What?””
She hesitated.
“Before your father died, he changed something about the house.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“He didn’t just leave it to me.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
She looked toward the window.
“Your father knew people would fight over that property.””
I sat up.
“What did he do?””
My mother whispered:
“He created a trust.””
I stared at her.
“A trust?””
She nodded.
“And Wendy doesn’t know the most important part.””
“What part?””
My mother looked at me.
“Your father protected the house from anyone trying to take it.””
My heart started racing.
“Then why did Wendy think she could?””
My mother’s face turned pale.
“Because someone showed her a fake document.””
I froze.
“Who?””
She looked at me.
And whispered the name I least expected.
“Your father’s old attorney.””
I stood up.
The room suddenly felt cold.
Because this wasn’t just about Wendy.
It wasn’t just about Ethan.
Someone else had been helping them.
Someone who knew exactly how to hide the truth.
My phone rang.
Attorney Miller.
I answered immediately.
“Did you find something?””
His voice was tense.
“Yes.””
“What?””
A pause.
Then:
“The attorney who prepared that transfer document disappeared this morning.””
My heart dropped.
“Disappeared?””
“Yes.””
“Where did he go?””
Another pause.
Then Attorney Miller said:
“Luca, there’s more.””
“What?””
“He left behind a message.””
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What message?””
His voice lowered.
“He wrote your mother was never the target.””
I stopped breathing.
“Then who was?””
A long silence.
May you like
Then:
“You.””
