Chapter 5: The Brother Who Needed My Name
My mother’s hand was still wrapped around my phone.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not her expression.
Not Derek’s silence.
Not my father standing frozen beside the table.
Her hand.
Because even now, after everything, she was still trying to control what I saw.
“What did you just say?”” I asked.
My mother slowly lowered the phone.
“I said don’t ask him.””
“Why?””
She looked at Derek.
That one glance told me more than any confession could.
They were afraid of the same thing.
The truth.
I reached for my phone.
My mother didn’t give it back immediately.
“Mom.””
My voice was quiet.
But firm.
“Give me my phone.””
For a second, she looked like she wanted to argue.
Then she handed it over.
I looked at Derek.
“Answer the question.””
He stayed silent.
“Why did you need my signature before you moved back home?””
Derek looked at our parents.
Then back at me.
“I didn’t.””
I stared at him.
The lie came too quickly.
Too automatically.
“You’re lying.””
“No, I’m not.””
“You didn’t even think before answering.””
His face tightened.
“Because I know I didn’t do anything wrong.””
I looked at the document on the table.
The fake signature.
My name.
My identity.
My future.
“Then explain that.””
Derek looked at the paper.
“I don’t know who signed that.””
My mother stepped forward.
“Enough.””
I turned toward her.
“Enough?””
“Yes.””
Her voice became sharp.
“This has gone too far.””
I almost smiled.
“Too far?””
I pointed at the document.
“Someone forged my signature.””
“We don’t know that.””
I stared at her.
“You just said not to ask Derek because the answer would change everything.””
Silence.
My mother realized what she had revealed.
She looked away.
And that was the moment I knew.
Whatever happened, she had been protecting Derek.
Again.
My entire life, I had watched my brother break things and my parents rush to clean up the pieces.
But this time, the broken thing was me.
“Dad,” I said.
He looked up.
“Tell me the truth.””
He looked exhausted.
“Naomi…”
“No.””
I shook my head.
“I need you to answer one question.””
He waited.
“Did Derek ask you to get my signature?””
My father closed his eyes.
That was enough.
A painful silence filled the room.
“You knew.””
My father opened his eyes.
“I knew he wanted something signed.””
My heart sank.
“What does that mean?””
“He said it was paperwork related to the family finances.””
“Did you know my name was on it?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation destroyed whatever hope I had left.
“Dad.””
His shoulders dropped.
“No.””
I stepped back.
“No?””
“I didn’t know the details.””
“But you signed something with my name on it without knowing the details?””
“I trusted him.””
I laughed quietly.
The irony was almost unbearable.
“You trusted him.””
My father looked ashamed.
“Yes.””
“And nobody trusted me enough to tell me?””
Nobody spoke.
I picked up the document.
“Who gave this to you?””
My father looked confused.
“What?””
“The trust agreement. The signature document. Who prepared it?””
My mother immediately answered.
“The lawyer.””
“What lawyer?””
She paused.
I noticed.
“Mom.””
She looked uncomfortable.
“Martin Hale.””
I froze.
The name meant something.
Not because I knew him.
Because I had heard it before.
A few months earlier, my father had mentioned a lawyer helping them “organize family matters.””
I thought nothing of it.
Apparently, I should have.
“I want his contact information.””
My mother’s face changed.
“No.””
There it was again.
That single word.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“You don’t get to say no anymore.””
The room went quiet.
Even Derek looked surprised.
Because the old Naomi would have apologized after saying something like that.
The old Naomi would have softened her voice.
The old Naomi would have worried about hurting everyone else’s feelings.
But the old Naomi was the person who ended up sitting on a stranger’s couch with one suitcase because her family decided she was disposable.
I was done being that person.
My father reached into his wallet.
He pulled out a card.
“Here.””
My mother looked at him.
“Richard.””
He ignored her.
I took the card.
Martin Hale.
Attorney at Law.
The address was downtown.
The number was written underneath.
I put it in my pocket.
“I’m going to talk to him.””
Derek immediately reacted.
“No.””
I turned.
“Excuse me?””
He looked nervous.
“I mean… maybe we should handle this as a family.””
I stared at him.
“Funny.””
“What?””
“You didn’t want family involved when you were taking control of my future.””
“That’s not fair.””
“No?””
I stepped closer.
“Then tell me what happened.””
He didn’t answer.
I lowered my voice.
“What did you sign?””
His expression changed.
“I didn’t sign anything.””
“Then why are you scared?””
“I’m not.””
“You are.””
He looked away.
And I knew.
Derek had always been easy to read.
He was confident when he was winning.
Quiet when he was cornered.
I turned toward the door.
“Where are you going?”” my mother asked.
“Home.””
She looked confused.
“You said you weren’t coming back.””
“I’m not.””
I opened the door.
“This isn’t my home anymore.””
Nobody stopped me.
Not my father.
Not my mother.
Not Derek.
And somehow, that hurt more than if they had argued.
Because a part of me still hoped someone would finally choose me.
But they didn’t.
Outside, the cold air hit my face.
I stood on the front steps and looked back at the house.
The place where I had spent years believing I belonged.
Then I walked away.
The next morning, I called Martin Hale.
He answered on the third ring.
“Martin Hale speaking.””
“Mr. Hale, my name is Naomi Carter.””
A pause.
Not long.
But noticeable.
“How can I help you?””
“I need information about documents involving my family trust.””
Another pause.
This one longer.
“I’m sorry. I can’t discuss private client matters.””
I looked out the window of Claire’s apartment.
“Even if my name is on the documents?””
Silence.
Then:
“Where did you get my number?””
That was not the answer I expected.
“I found it.””
“Who gave you those documents?””
I sat up straighter.
“Why?””
Another silence.
Then his voice lowered.
“Naomi, if you are who I think you are, you need to be very careful.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why?””
“Because the paperwork I prepared was not supposed to be used the way it was used.””
I gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?””
“I can’t discuss details over the phone.””
“Then tell me in person.””
He hesitated.
Finally, he said:
“Tomorrow morning. My office.””
I wrote down the address.
Before I could hang up, he spoke again.
“One more thing.””
“What?””
“Bring identification.””
“Why?””
His answer made my blood run cold.
“Because I need to confirm you’re really Naomi Carter.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
A long pause.
Then he said:
“Because according to the documents I received…”
His voice became quieter.
“…Naomi Carter already signed away her rights six months ago.””
I stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible.””
“I know.””
“Then why did you say it?””
Another pause.
Then:
“Because the person who signed those papers wasn’t you.””
I stared at the wall.
The room felt smaller.
My hands went cold.
Someone had stolen my name.
Someone had stolen my future.
And suddenly, the question wasn’t just why my family betrayed me.
May you like
It was something much worse.
Who had been pretending to be me?
