I turned toward my mother.
She was crying before I even spoke.
“Do you have the ledger?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
“I didn't know it was the ledger.”
“What did you think it was?”
“An old book.”
“Where is it?”
She looked at my father.
He seemed equally shocked.
“Tell her,” Dad said.
My mother closed her eyes.
“I gave it away.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“To whom?”
“Brooke.”
I stared at her.
“But Brooke said she had it.”
“She did.”
“Then Charles says she doesn't.”
My mother nodded.
“She brought it back.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“She said someone was coming after her.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Did Brooke tell you that?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
My mother continued.
“She came to me three months ago.”
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“Because she threatened me.”
“With the ledger?”
“With everything.”
I felt anger rise.
“You knew all of this three months ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
Again.
That word.
I was beginning to hate it.
“What did she want?”
“She wanted money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Did you give it to her?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
“She left the ledger.”
My mother walked to the cabinet.
She opened a drawer.
From beneath a stack of old papers, she removed a narrow wooden box.
She placed it on the table.
Nobody spoke.
She opened it.
Inside was a leather-bound book.
The cover was cracked.
The edges were worn.
There was no title.
I looked at it.
“That?”
She nodded.
Daniel photographed it before touching it.
Then he opened the first page.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
And beside several entries, handwritten notes.
I recognized my grandfather's handwriting.
Then I saw another hand.
Evelyn's.
Then Brooke's.
Three generations had written in the same book.
I felt sick.
“How long has this been in our family?”
My mother whispered, “Longer than any of us knew.”
Daniel continued turning pages.
Some names were crossed out.
Others were marked with symbols.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Charles Vane.
Another appeared beneath it.
Peter Lawson.
Then my father's name.
I stared.
“Why is Dad here?”
My father stepped closer.
The page described a payment made after Peter's accident.
Dad looked at it.
“I never received that money.”
Daniel asked, “Do you know where it went?”
“No.”
My mother spoke.
“Your grandfather gave it to Charles.”
Charles, standing near the door, nodded.
“Yes.”
“What was it for?”
“Silence.”
I looked at him.
“Whose?”
“Everyone's.”
The room went quiet.
Charles explained that after Peter's accident, my grandfather had paid several people to keep the incident quiet.
But Peter had survived.
He had escaped.
The story of his death had been convenient.
A rumor became accepted truth.
And the family moved on.
Or pretended to.
“What about Evelyn?” I asked.
Charles looked at the ledger.
“She discovered the payments.”
“And she threatened to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandpa hurt her?”
“No.”
“Then why did she disappear?”
“She ran because she believed he would.”
I looked at Jonah.
He nodded.
“She took me and left.”
“Where did you go?”
“Several places.”
“Why come back now?”
Jonah looked at the ledger.
“Because my mother wants the truth known.”
I turned toward my father.
“Why did you keep everything from me?”
He struggled to answer.
“I thought ignorance would protect you.”
“It didn't.”
“I know.”
“You let me build my company without knowing half the properties were connected to our family.”
“Yes.”
“You let Brooke use me.”
“I didn't know she was doing that.”
“You knew she was involved.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed silent.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
I walked away.
I couldn't look at him.
The ledger sat on the table.
It was only a book.
But it had controlled generations.
People had lied because of it.
People had disappeared because of it.
Money had moved because of it.
And now I was holding the consequences.
Daniel began photographing every page.
Then he stopped.
“Miranda.”
“What?”
“Look here.”
He pointed to an entry near the back.
The date was recent.
Three months earlier.
The same period my mother said Brooke returned the ledger.
Beside Brooke's name was another.
Charles.
And beside Charles was a payment.
One hundred thousand dollars.
My mother shook her head.
“I didn't know about that.”
Charles said nothing.
“Did you receive that money?” Daniel asked.
Charles nodded.
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
“Brooke.”
“Why?”
“She wanted information.”
“What information?”
“Where the original property records were.”
I looked at him.
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn't know.”
That answer seemed almost too convenient.
Then Charles said:
“But I knew someone who did.”
Everyone turned.
“Who?”
He looked at my father.
Dad's face went white.
“You.”
Dad stared at him.
“No.”
“You knew where the original records were.”
“I didn't.”
Charles shook his head.
“You took them from the church.”
I looked at Dad.
“What church?”
He didn't answer.
Charles did.
“St. Matthew's.”
Dad sat down.
I could see the memory returning.
The envelope.
The photograph.
The church.
The night Evelyn disappeared.
“What did you take?” I asked.
Dad finally looked at me.
“Nothing.”
Charles laughed softly.
“You took the deed.”
I turned toward him.
“What deed?”
“Property seventeen.”
The room went silent.
My father's eyes filled with tears.
“I was told to keep it safe.”
“By whom?”
“Evelyn.”
I stared.
“She gave you the deed?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said if anything happened to her, I was to give it to you.”
“Why didn't you?”
Dad's voice broke.
“Because your grandfather found out.”
“What did he do?”
“He threatened your mother.”
My mother looked down.
“And you gave it back.”
“Yes.”
“To Grandpa?”
Dad nodded.
“He took it.”
Charles shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
“He didn't.”
Charles walked toward the table.
“He never got the deed.”
I frowned.
“Then where is it?”
Charles looked at my mother.
“She kept it.”
My mother began crying.
I stared at her.
“Mom?”
She opened the wooden box.
Beneath the ledger was a folded document.
She placed it on the table.
Property seventeen.
The original deed.
My name was written on it.
Not my father's.
Not my mother's.
Mine.
I touched the paper.
My hand trembled.
“How long have you had this?”
My mother whispered:
“Twenty-two years.”
I looked at her.
She had been carrying the proof of my inheritance since before I understood what inheritance meant.
Then the front door slammed.
Everyone turned.
A second later, the lights went out.
Daniel shouted for everyone to stay where they were.
Glass shattered somewhere outside.
Someone ran across the porch.
Then a voice came through the darkness.
“Give me the deed.”
Brooke.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: Brooke Returned for the Deed With Nothing Left to Lose, and Her Final Confession Revealed Why She Had Turned Against Everyone
The Christmas Invitation My Parents Never Answered Left Me Wondering Who Had Decided I Wasn’t Worth Showing Up For
Part 14 of 20
